


Zed Word

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, John is Negan, Negan takes what he wants, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Inspired by a series of tweets between JDM and Jensen.Sam and Dean never found John, but everything went the same way anyway until Season 5. Adam never said yes to Michael. The fight at Stull never happened but Lucifer (jumping from vessel to vessel cause Sam wouldn't say yes) and Pestilence managed to infect everyone turning them into zombies when they die. The boys traveled the apocalyptic landscape killing zombies ever since. They happen to save your life, and you take them to Alexandria.***"So we been walking since my car broke down in West Tennessee. We've come across our fair share of people, most have been dicks, some have been okay, but everyone we talk to, they call 'em something different. So, for the survey, what do people in Virginia call the zombies?""We definitely don't use the zed word. Uh, well, we come from all over and different people use different terms mostly depending on where they were when it started. I'm up from North Florida, we called 'em 'ghouls' but I've heard the range. 'Rotters', 'Roamers', 'Biters', 'Dead ones' but most of us in Alexandria have settled on 'Walkers'. What about you?""Oh, Sam and me, we don't mince words. They're zombies."





	1. Shitty Plans

It was too hard to sit around Alexandria lately. No, you hadn't gone outside the walls since you were brought in (half-dead, mind you) by Daryl a couple weeks before the Mega-herd was discovered outside town. You'd been happy to hide from the Wolves, hide from the walkers that broke through the wall. You were a wizard with barricades, it's how you survived alone as long as you did. You couldn't barricade against the tension and broken spirits of a post-Negan Alexandria, though, so you checked out a .38 pistol and waved to Eugene as you exited the gate. In hindsight, leaving town alone, without a specific destination in mind, was a shitty plan. A shitty lack of a plan. No surprise to anyone that you wound up running from a pack of walkers and getting trapped in a room with no exit and nothing to barricade the door.

Sounds of flesh slicing and growls dying abruptly pulled you from your pitying thoughts. "Hey, sweetheart, you can come out, now. They're dead. Or, re-dead." A man called out.

You swallowed and pulled the door open. Standing in the middle of a pile of decapitated bodies, were two tall men with machetes. The taller one had long, dirt and grease-covered hair and the other had hair shaved almost to the scalp. They nodded at you as you took a cautious step out of the pantry. "You okay? Did they get you?" The taller one asked, sliding his machete into a sheath hanging on his belt.

You shook your head. "I'm quick. Shit at planning supply runs but quick." You bent down to pull your empty bag out from under a headless body.

"Supply runs? You got a base to supply?" The short-haired one asked as he wiped his machete on an old plaid rag.

Apprehension hit you. "Uh, you aren't Saviors, are you?"

They exchanged a confused look. "Uh, we just saved you, but I feel like that's not what you're talking about." The taller one raised an eyebrow.

"Are you Negan's boys?" You clarified.

They shook their heads. "Never heard of 'im."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. I'm y/n."

"Dean. And this is my brother, Sam." The man with the shaved head reached his hand out for you to shake. You took it and shook it twice.

"Um, I do have a base. Alexandria. High walls, locked gate, power, water... food. I don't have a lot of pull there, and it's a bit of a sinking ship since Negan showed up, but you saved my life. I might be able to get you in, at least for the night. Get you guys a warm shower, hot meal."

"You had me at 'shower'." Dean's eyes lit up at the word.

You nodded and slung the empty bag onto your back. They followed as you left the building and headed for the woodline. "So, uh,  _we_ have been walking since my car broke down in West Tennessee." Dean looked distraught at the memory. "We've come across our fair share of people, most have been dicks, some have been okay, but everyone we talk to, they call 'em something different. So, for the survey, what do people in Virginia call the zombies?"

"We definitely don't use the zed word." You answered, quietly moving between the trees. "Uh, well, we come from all over and different people use different terms mostly depending on where they were when it started. I'm up from North Florida, we called 'em 'ghouls' but I've heard the range. 'Rotters', 'Roamers', 'Biters', 'Dead ones' but most of us in Alexandria have settled on 'Walkers'. What about you?"

"Oh, Sam and me, we don't mince words. They're zombies. But back in Kansas, the preferred term was 'lamebrain'. Between that and 'geek', it sounded too much like a junior high slam book. Might be able to get behind 'Walker', though. Since the 'zed word' makes you uncomfortable."

"Kansas, huh? You are a long way from home."

"Kansas wasn't really home anymore, anyway." Sam muttered.

"Just happened to be there when shit went to Hell. Visiting our Mom's grave."

"You got family?" Sam asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Not anymore." You answered, softly. "Well, I mean... I _know_ my parents are gone. Walkers got 'em back at the start. My sister was in Atlanta. Don't know if she got out before the bombs, but knowing her... She didn't make it to the bombs. She _might_ be around, though." You tried to sound hopeful but your voice refused.

"Your husband?"

"No husband." You answered. "Look, we're coming up on Alexandria. I'll have to get permission to bring you in, okay?"

"Makes sense."

"Stay here." You approached the gate and smiled at Eugene. "Hey, Hairdo. Can I get a quick audience with Maggie?"

"Maggie is at the Hilltop being examined by the OB. I could get Rick."

"No." You didn't trust him much these days. "Um, can you grab Michonne?" Eugene walked away, leaving you to man the gate. You could see Sam and Dean talking a few yards down. They held themselves with an unshakeable confidence.

Michonne smiled as she approached, sword slung on her back. "I notice that bag is empty, y/n."

"Yeah. No surprise, I almost got myself killed."

"Again."

"Ha. Thanks. Um, anyway, I was saved by these brothers, Sam and Dean. They seem like really good guys and they... they took down a dozen walkers in, like, two minutes and Maggie was saying we need fighters and even if they can't stay, I think I owe 'em a plate of spaghetti and a shower..."

Michonne waved them forward and extended a hand as they approached. "Michonne."

"Dean."

"Sam." They responded as they shook her hand.

"Okay. Well, before I invite you inside those walls, I have to ask you three questions. These are important and you need to know that your answers might get you killed, so be honest." They exchanged a look, then shrugged. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Never thought to count." Dean responded as Sam succinctly answered, "A lot."

"How many people have you killed?"

"Too many." Dean seemed upset by the answer but he didn't dodge it.

"Why did you kill them?"

"To protect each other." Sam said.

"My brother's life is paramount. And one person is more dangerous than a whole herd of undead."

"Welcome to Alexandria. We'll go grab you a key for one of the emptys." Michonne pushed the gate open wide and everyone walked in.

"Wow. It almost looks like, like the world never ended." Sam whispered.

"Not ended, really. Just changed." You responded as Michonne dragged you away by your bag. "Eugene will keep you company while I get you a house."

"He's cute." Michonne threw a glance over her shoulder as you walked.

"Yeah, I guess. If you like tall, bowlegged, country-rocker looking guys."

"Yeah, I was talking about Sam, but Dean's cute, too I guess." Michonne had a shit-eating grin as you shook your head at yourself.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" You chuckled.

"Yep."

"Well, eligible bachelors are few and far between in the apocalypse, Michonne."

"Who says they're eligible?"

"Well, they aren't traveling with any women... Beyond that, it's just wishful thinking."

"Well, here's the key to 12." Michonne handed the key to you and smirked.

"Keep 'em close, huh? Thanks."

"I support you, fully, y/n. Take some time to live."

"Is it that obvious that I need to get laid?"

"Yeah. Can't be easy, living with a couple."

"They're fine. Seriously. Thanks for letting these guys in. I know Rick might-" You stopped about twenty feet from the gate, able to see Sam and Dean talking to Eugene, but not close enough to hear the content of the conversation.

"Let me worry about Rick. You just worry about getting them cleaned up and smelling nice." Michonne turned and headed for her place while you made the final approach to the gate.

You held up your hand, the key dangling from your finger. "You boys ready?"

"Nice meeting you." Sam nodded at Eugene as they started to follow you. "He has an actual mullet. Didn't think any mullets survived the apocalypse."

"He's actually really smart. One of those guys with huge potential but a shitty upbringing. I still don't understand why he keeps a mullet, though."

"Knew a guy had a mullet. Went to MIT. Smartest man I ever met." Dean said.

You laughed. "Now, I'm imagining Eugene at MIT." You pushed your hair behind your ear and cleared your throat. "The infirmary is over there. We don't currently have a doctor but bandages and whatnot are there. Rick is our... He was our leader. Michonne is his second. I heard a rumor they finally got together several weeks ago, but that might just be rumor. Um... Rick's people live in those two houses at the end, there. We're going the next street over."

"Which one of these palaces is yours?" Dean asked.

"Oh. I don't have my own. Single people don't need a whole house. I was taken in by Eric and Aaron when I got out of the infirmary. They're super sweet. They're two-thirds of the gay community in Alexandria. Tara's the other. Used to be Denise, too, but one of Negan's Saviors put an arrow through her eye." You shot a glance at Dean. "She was our doctor. Saved my life. Saved Rick's son when he got shot in the eye. And Negan's... That's got to be a horrible way to die."

"They're all horrible." Sam whispered.

"Anyway. Uh, this is you guys', comin' up on the left. I am across the street, one house down. You can see Eric keeps the yard immaculate." You pointed to your house and then turned toward the porch of number 12.

"This is ours, then?" Sam asked, walking up the stairs.

You handed the key to Dean, who stepped up beside his brother and unlocked the door. You followed them in, leaning against the doorjamb instead of entering completely. It wasn't your house, after all. "Fully working kitchen, spacious living room. Two bedrooms, upstairs. Bathroom should be at the top of the stairs, to the left. You guys got any soap, cause I can run over and grab some... Aaron found a box of Old Spice on a run."

"That'd be great. Also, might be a tall order, but: toothpaste?" Sam asked, looking self conscious.

"Sorry." You apologized with a grimace. "I have baking soda and some mouthwash and I could probably scrounge up some brushes."

"Perfect. Beggars can't be choosers." Dean smiled brightly and you momentarily wondered why they were asking for toothpaste to brush those obviously fake pearly whites.

"Okay. I'll be right back with man-cleaning supplies. You guys, get the lay of the land."

"So, new blood, huh? Where'd they come from?" Eric asked as you walked in and headed for the garage.

"Originally, Kansas. Names are Dean and Sam. They saved my life out there. I'm gonna give them a bottle of Old Spice."

"That one looks like he needs a haircut. Want me to grab the scissors?"

You laughed. "That's Sam. I don't know how attached he is to the hair. Might just grab a few hair ties for him, instead. Oh, how we doin' for shampoo? Can we spare some of the VO5?"

"Oh, go ahead. They can have it."

"Thanks, Eric. Now, where'd we put the toothbrushes?"

"Brushes, too? Which one are you trying to sleep with?"

You grabbed two brushes from a box near the door and walked back into the house, ignoring the question and moving toward the kitchen. You grabbed the last few items and walked across the street. The door was still ajar. "Knock knock. I have supplies!"

"Hey. Oh, wow." Dean walked up, his green jacket and black over shirt had disappeared and as he took the shampoo and baking soda from your overflowing hands, you couldn't help but stare at his well-muscled arms and chest taunting you under his tight grey shirt. "Thanks for this."

You nodded. "Of course. You guys saved me. It's the least I can do. Um, I, uh, don't know how religious you guys are, but... It's Sunday and Father Gabriel does a Sunday evening service that a lot of people go to. It'd be a good way to meet folks and, um, after..." You set the toothbrushes, mouthwash and body wash on a table next to the door and turned to Dean, hands going into your jean pockets. "I do a Sunday Spaghetti Dinner every other weekend. It's just pasta and red sauce, no meat, but it's pretty popular, lately. Guess people are trying to focus on what we still have, you know? So, there'll be a dozen or so people over, some that don't go to church... and Rick's kids haven't missed a dinner since I started it. You guys should come."

Dean smiled, sweetly. "I'd love to. Where's the church?"

"I'll come pick you up at 6." You responded, before nodding and pulling your hands from your pockets. "Well, I'll leave you to get ready."

"Hey, thanks again." Dean said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You nodded and smiled, before walking out the door and across the street.

"Oh, it's the short-haired one. What was it? Dan?" Eric teased as you entered the house and took a deep breath.

"Dean." You corrected. "And, God yes. Muscles of a Greek God, eyes of an angel, and a voice that flirts without a word out of place. And, oh, my god, Eric... I haven't had sex since before the incident. I sucked at flirting before and now it's been literal years. What do I do?" You rubbed your hand down your face.

"Sweetheart, breathe. Take a mental inventory of the single women in this place. You're hotter than most of 'em, sweeter than all of 'em and smarter than everybody in here 'cept Maggie. Unless he's gay, you will have no problems."

You let out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks, Eric. I gotta go shower. You comin' to church tonight?"

"I might. Just to meet the new boys, be a wingman for you."

"I've never had a wingman. Neat." You chuckled as you walked up the stairs.

**************

You crossed the street at a little before 6 and knocked on the door. You self-consciously smoothed out the front of your flowery white blouse and pushed your hair behind your ears. You smiled as Sam answered the door. Someone had brought them clothes, and they actually fit Sam's giant frame. "Tobin must've donated those." You stepped into the house and examined him. White tee under a dark blue button-up, carpenter jeans and his same hiking boots. He'd shaved and now that his hair was clean and dried, he'd pulled it into a low ponytail and you could tell that it was a dark blond instead of the brown it'd appeared before.

"Yeah, a woman named Annie brought these over with his regards. How'd you know?"

"You and Tobin are probably the tallest guys in Alexandria. Six-four, six-five?"

Sam closed the door. "Yeah, six foot four. Dean's still getting ready. He was given a big stack of clothes from someone named 'Reg' who, I gather, isn't around anymore."

"Yeah. It was before I got here." You sat on the stairs and looked up at Sam. "So, the hair, is that an intentional thing or..."

"Well, I never wanted it  _this_ long, but I won't shave my head, like Dean does."

"Well, Eric is pretty good with hair. I could ask him to give you a trim."

"That'd be amazing. You are incredible. Thank you."

"So, I look like an old man, don't I?" Dean's voice called from the top of the stairs. You stood and turned to look. He had on a white polo, a cream colored cardigan and a pair of black slacks. They should have looked ridiculous, but for some reason, they looked good.

"That's not at all how I'd describe you."

Dean got a cocky grin as he looked you up and down. "Well, thanks. That's a cute shirt."

"Thanks. Come on." You said, pulling the door open and heading down the street before your blush could starve your heart of blood.

You heard Sam mumble, "Even in the apocalypse..." as you left them.

"So, y/n, what were you before all this?" Dean caught up to you quickly.

"Stripper." It was your favorite joke answer to that question. Deanna hadn't thought it was funny.

"Really?" Dean seemed excited about it.

"No. I was a pharma rep. Basically, a travelling salesman with an endless supply of antidepressants and ED drugs in convenient sample packets."

"Oh, so if your boyfriend was depressed because he couldn't get it up, you could help two ways." Dean joked.

"Yeah, if only." You giggled. "No boyfriend. Not since..." You sighed in sudden sadness and a bit of existential angst. "Not since high school."

"How old are you?" Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"27."

"And you haven't had a boyfriend since you were, what, 18?"

"17. Yep."

"How's that possible?" Sam asked.

"Nice to meet you, I'm socially awkward."

"Aw. Here I am, thinking you're nervous 'cause you're sweet on me and you just don't like people." Dean teased.

"Those two are not mutually exclusive." You replied, as the church came into view.

"Well, you don't flirt like a spaz."

"I figure, just go for it, right? I mean, unless you like much older ladies or guys, I'm prime real estate in the apocalypse. I tell ya, the end of the world has done wonders for my self confidence." You answered, feeling a lot less confident than your words would have them believe.

"Sweetheart, you would be prime real estate even if most of the world weren't zombies. Sorry. Walkers."

You blushed deeply as you entered the church. Gabriel approached with a smile. "Y/n, it's good to see you. These must be our newcomers. Which is Sam and which is Dean?"

" _I'm_ Dean. Nice to meet you, Father."

"Well, I'll be starting in about ten minutes, if you wanted to walk around, get to know people."

Gabriel smiled and walked away, so you looked around. "Maggie!" You waved to the brunette woman, who nodded and walked away from the group she was talking to. "I'm sure Michonne already talked to you, but _I_ tried to talk to you before I brought 'em in. You were at Hilltop."

"Michonne talked to me as soon as I got back. I'm Maggie Rhee. Hear you boys are pretty handy with a machete."

The brothers exchanged a look you couldn't identify, then nodded. "Yeah. We're proficient with a... variety of weapons." Sam answered.

"Well, that's good. Time comes to put Negan in the ground, we might need to use a variety of weapons. They tell you about Negan?"

"Not really. We've gathered that he's a bastard." Dean answered.

"He's a psychopath." Maggie's accent turned the word into a two-syllable one. "He's got hundreds of people under his thumb and he's decided that Alexandria is the next community he wants 'workin' for him. He killed two of our people in cold blood. He abducted a third one. All strong, _good_ men. We need more. I'm glad y/n brought you to us."

"Well, we'll be happy to... help in any way we can." Sam seemed a bit emotional about it.

"All right. Glad to hear it. We'll have to see what you can do, of course, but I got a good feeling about you boys. Dean and Sam, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. It was nice meetin' you." Dean nodded as Maggie walked away, then looked over at Sam. "You think Bela had a sister nobody knew about?"

"We didn't know much about Bela, really, so she might've." Sam replied.

"She look like somebody you guys used to know?"

"Eerily." Dean responded, before looking around the room. "Anybody else we absolutely _have_ to meet before we sit down?"

"Um..." You looked around "Rick's not here, you already met Michonne and Father Gabriel... uh... The Grimes family isn't here. Okay, uh... I think we could just skip the rest of these for now." You gestured to two seats near the front. "You guys go ahead and sit here. I'll stand."

"You could sit on my lap." Dean smirked as he walked past to sit down.

"Might not look like it, but this is a house of God. Stow that kinda talk." You chastised as a blush crept over your face. He chuckled and leaned back in his seat. You were positive this man was going to be a handful and that was just fine by you.


	2. Carpe Diem

Eric walked in halfway through the sermon (one about faith in the face of overwhelming odds and humility after surpassing those odds) and stood next to you. You could see him appraising Dean from the sidelines as Gabriel preached. "He's super cute." He whispered.

"Told you."

"You still need a wingman?"

You scoffed. "You know, I don't think I do. He was flirting with me. Even _I_ can't deny that's what he was doing."

"Ooh, good for you! Is he coming to pasta night?"

"They both are." You cast your eyes to the front of the room and smiled politely at Gabriel, who was looking at you and Eric with disappointment.

"Well, I got your water started. You'll just have to kick it up to high when you get home." He winked and walked to the back, sitting in a single empty chair.

After Gabriel wound down the sermon, everyone stood and greeted each other. Eric walked up and smiled at the men. "Sam, Dean, this is Eric Raleigh."

"And do you two have surnames?" Eric asked, shaking their hands.

"Winchester. Like the gun." Sam responded.

"Ooh. That's a name. Well, I will see you at the house for spaghetti, right? You can meet Aaron."

"Yeah. We'll be there. Who are we to turn down a home-cooked meal?" Dean put his hand on your shoulder as he spoke. You froze and Eric definitely noticed.

"It's actually pretty amazing what this girl can do with canned tomatoes and dried pasta. She's had that that sauce going for hours."

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from the men. "Okay, y'all, let's... head back to the house."

"You know, if you can't handle him touching your shoulder, you're never gonna break that dry spell." Eric whispered as you walked out of the church.

"Thank you, Eric." You groaned.

"Hey, Maggie! Are you coming to dinner?" Eric called.

"No. I can't take the acid. Thanks, anyway." Maggie dropped her head as she headed toward the Grimes' households.

"Her husband was one of the ones Negan killed. She's pregnant. So sad." You whispered as you walked toward Eric and Aaron's house.

"It's a tragedy." Eric agreed. "To lose someone like that."

"Yeah." Sam could barely be heard. It was evident that they had definitely lost people, too.

As you approached the house, you could see Carl on the porch, bouncing Judith up and down. "Oh, the Grimes kids are here. They've been really eager about these dinners since Carol left. Carl!" You rushed toward the porch, with a big smile.

"Those the guys?" Carl asked, resting Judith on his hip.

"Yep. They saved me. I know distrust is your first instinct, but don't be a jerk."

"When am I ever?" Carl asked, with faux innocence, as you pushed the door open. Carl followed you into the kitchen.

"Who else is coming, you think?"

"Dad and Michonne said they might be coming. Dad was kinda... uh..."

"Pissed? You can say it. I knew he wasn't gonna be happy about us bringing in new people." You clicked the pot of water up to high and stirred your sauce as the front door opened and Eric entered with Sam, Dean, Michonne, Rick and Eugene following behind. You grabbed two boxes of pasta and set them on the counter, before walking to the fridge and pulling out a six-pack of beer. "Will you take these into the living room, Carl? And tell everybody fifteen minutes on food, please?" The teen took the beer without a word and disappeared from the kitchen.

You could hear snippets of conversation from the living room, filtering in over the sound of boiling water. "... a mechanic. I got into it by fixin' up our Dad's old Impala. Just had a knack. Sammy was gonna be a lawyer. Went to Stanford an' everything."

"Is it just you two?" Rick's tone was accusatory, like he didn't believe the brothers had survived together alone.

"That's kinda our life story. Sam and Dean against the world." Sam responded.

"Gotta say; cold beer, I thought I'd never have one again. You guys have it so good here. I can see why other people might be a threat."

"Don't worry. We know you aren't here to take what we have." Michonne's tone was warmth and strength. Of all the females in Alexandria, she was definitely the one you were happiest to call 'friend'.

"... brings you to Virginia? Headin' anywhere specific?" Eric cut through as you placed a strainer in the sink.

"...best to just keep... one place for long. Makes you a target. We didn't have a place with walls like..." Sam's voice went in and out as you poured the starchy water and spaghetti into the sink.

Suddenly, you were aware of a presence at the stove, stirring your sauce. You turned to see Dean, beer in one hand, ladle in the other. "You should be out there, mingling, making new friends." You said as you set the giant pot on a cold burner.

"Well, Sammy has their attentions right now and I realized that _you_ are all alone in here. Doesn't seem fair. You're doin' all the work and not even gettin' company in return."

You grabbed a stack of plates from the cupboard and began to plate the pasta. "Maybe you just wanna spend time with me. You sweet on _me_ , Dean?"

He smiled, brightly, at that. "I thought I was hidin' it pretty well."

You pointed to a cupboard beside the sink. "You wanna open that and grab the bottle on the second shelf?"

Dean set his beer on the counter and reached into the cabinet, coming back with a bottle of mahogany red liquor, about three-fourths full. The label was faded, but 'Macallan' was still legible. "What's this?"

"It was my Dad's. Macallan Cask Strength. It survived the journey from Florida to Alexandria."

"Cask Strength?"

"Scotch gets diluted down to about 90 proof, usually. _This_ isn't watered-down. Sits at about 130 proof. A little goes a _long_ way." You answered, beginning to ladle sauce over the plates of pasta.

"So, don't drink from the bottle, is what you're tellin' me?"

You pointed to another cabinet. "Cups."

"How many people are gonna imbibe?"

"It varies. You should get a head count from the living room."

Dean crossed the kitchen, bottle in hand. "Hands up if you're havin' some of this kickass Scotch. Yeah, nice try kid." He returned and grabbed 6 cups. "Assuming you're having a glass."

You grabbed the first round of plates and headed to the living room with them. "Bon Apetit."

Dean helped bring in the rest of the plates and you smiled as everyone waited to take their first bite until you'd taken a seat in a chair next to Aaron. "I wanna dedicate this meal to Sam and Dean Winchester. Without them, _I'd've_ been a meal for walkers this morning, so... thank you, enjoy and... go slow on the Scotch. Salud." You held up your glass and everyone held theirs up, too.

"Salud." The room chorused.

You watched as Dean twirled his fork in the pasta and shoved it into his mouth. "Aw muh gaw! Ish ih uhmay-ing." You laughed as he swallowed.

"After years of dehydrated shit and cold Beanie-weenies, this is like a porterhouse."

Sam nodded his agreement. "This is the best thing I can ever remember eating. Thank you, so much."

You blushed and took a sip of your Scotch.

*******************************

As everyone slowly filed out of the house, you found yourself sitting on Aaron and Eric's couch, nursing the end of your first glass of Scotch. Dean was sitting next to you, nursing his second one as Sam helped Eric and Aaron with the dinner dishes. You were suddenly very aware of Dean's proximity and your levels of anxiety skyrocketed as you began to worry about his obvious interest in you and your lack of experience and if you maybe you forgot to shave part of your leg when you were in the shower.

Dean reached over and placed his hand on your thigh and leaned over, whispering, "I'm not going to ask you to bed, y/n."

"What?" You squeaked, turning to him.

"You looked nervous, so I thought I'd take the pressure off."

You swallowed. "Did I do something... wrong?"

"No, not at all. It's just..." He cleared his throat and set his glass down. "You're pretty much a virgin. It's been a decade for you and I doubt your high school boyfriend knew what he was doing. And I, for the first time in years, I'm actually drunk and I'm not gonna rush into this with you and fuck it up."

"But... I... we could die any day." You whispered, looking down.

"You're right, and 'carpe diem' is a great way to live in the apocalypse, but we are relatively safe here and if I'm gonna seize you, I'm gonna do it right."

"Right. Guess that makes sense."

"Hey, but I do plan to carpe. Just not tonight."

You chuckled, scooting backward on the couch. "That definitely takes the pressure off."

"That's what I was goin' for." Dean said, as the water in the kitchen turned off.

Eric seemed a bit disappointed that you and Dean weren't all over each other when they entered the living room.

"Ready to head back?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, standing and wiping his hands on his slacks. "Thanks for having us over. This was an amazing welcome. Hope we can live up to the hype." You stood, walking to the door and letting them out. "Tomorrow?" Dean asked, quietly, as he passed through the doorway.

"Tomorrow." You confirmed.

You closed the door and turned to Eric and Aaron, both of whom were staring at you. "So?" Eric asked.

"So... what?" You deflected, picking up your empty glass and draining the last bit of Scotch from Dean's.

"So, Dean Winchester, that's what. Do we hear wedding bells?"

You rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen sink. "We've known each other a day, Eric. Let's hold off on the 'Say Yes to the Dress' event, okay?"

"Oh, come on. Does he like you?" Eric asked, frankly.

You turned around and sighed. "There was some talk about carpe-ing my diem. Yes, I'd say he does."

"Good for you. You deserve the happiness." Aaron smiled as he spoke.

"Like I said, I _met_ him this morning. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Yeah, but..." Aaron tilted his head away from his boyfriend. "...you could get lost in those eyes."

You sighed, deeply. "I know." You shook your head at yourself and walked toward the stairs. "See you in the morning, gentlemen."

************************

The next morning was more tense than other recent dawns and it didn't take long to find out why. Negan would be there in just a couple hours. As the time dragged on, you decided to check on the Winchesters. Sam answered the door. "Have you guys been told? That Negan's coming?"

"Yeah. Maggie told us to stay in. She doesn't want him seeing us." Sam gestured for you to come in, so you did.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I mean, he doesn't know you exist, so he can't hurt you. We're gonna pass him off some of our stuff, he'll leave. Least, that's how it's supposed to go, but last time he came in contact with our Alpha males, he killed two people, tried to get Rick to chop off Carl's arm, then he abducted Daryl. It's better he doesn't know you're here." You said, as Dean walked down the stairs.

"I don't see why we don't just go against the man, head-on."

"Because it's not just him. It's him and his Saviors and Negan seems to have prepared for every contingency. He's not just crazy, he's smart, too. Please, stay in."

"You gonna keep us company?" Dean asked as shouting from the gate drew your attention.

You looked out the window to see people running toward the gate. "No, I'm sorry. I can't. I... he has Daryl. Daryl's the one who brought me here, gave me the chance to be a damn person again. I have to know if he's okay."

Dean grabbed your hand as you reached for the door. "What if he kills you?"

You chuckled and grabbed the doorknob with your other hand. "Then you should've carpe'd last night. Stay in. I'll be fine." You rushed out the door without another word and ran for the crowd at the gate, pushing your way to the front.

Your stomach flipped to see him; black leather jacket, holding that barbed wire-decorated bat. 'Menacing' wasn't a strong enough word, but you couldn't think past your fear to a better one. "This can't be all of it, Rick."

"We... don't have more to give."

The bat came down on the ground next to where Rick was kneeling. "You're gonna give me twice this next week, understand? Or I start culling your herd 'til you can do your job without worrying about how many worthless mouths you gotta feed. Do you understand, asshole?"

Rick nodded, quickly, and Negan pointed the bat at two of his men, who rushed forward to grab Alexandria's offering. The nightmare man turned and started to walk out of the gate, so you pulled on every bit of your courage, screwed your eyes shut and called out, "What about Daryl?!"

Gasps went through the crowd and you had to force your eyes open and deal with your actions. Negan was walking toward you, a sickening grin on his face. "What _about_ Daryl?" He stopped five feet away, holding the bat, menacingly.

"I-is h-he..." You couldn't control the shaking in your voice any more than you could the weakness in your legs. "Is he dead?" You pushed out.

"You wanna know if Daryl's okay? That's sweet. You know what, princess, 'cause you asked so nicely... you can come see for yourself. Take her." Negan turned to Rick as you were grabbed under each arm and dragged out the gate. "You've been holding out on me, Rick. You've got women; soft, curvy women who don't remind me of my old drill sergeant. Hard to find a bitch without hard edges in the world today, so I will consider _that one_ the other half of your payment."

Negan's eyes fell on Michonne, who was staring after you in fear. "Oh, don't worry about her. I'll treat her like a fuckin' queen. Assuming she doesn't fight me, I won't even hurt the little cunt. Hell, she might even like it." He stood straight and walked out the gate, a happy bounce in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get bad for the reader in the next chapter. The archive warning for Rape/Noncon is not there for my health. Next chapter will also be switching between POVs and I know that can be annoying but I will try to write it in the least annoying way...


	3. The Easy Way

Dean and Sam were not the type to sit on their asses while a psycho threatened, hurt and stole from a group of innocent people, but they weren't stupid enough to be seen scoping the bastard out, either. They maneuvered around the crowd to a far edge and examined the Saviors, counting weapons and weaknesses. As their eyes fell on Negan, Dean's first thoughts were **_*Nice jacket, George Michael.*_** followed by, **_*A baseball bat. That's menacing.*_** but as sound caught up to picture, his sarcastic thoughts blanked out, replaced by confusion and fear.

"Oh, don't worry about her. I'll treat her like a fuckin' queen." They hadn't heard that voice in over a decade, but it was unmistakable. "Assuming she doesn't fight me, I won't even hurt the little cunt. Hell, she might even like it." Dean and Sam looked at each other as Negan left. Their father was the murderous psychopath terrorizing Alexandria? And had he been talking about... was John Winchester a rapist, now, too?

Sam grabbed the arm of Dean's sweater and tugged him to the back of the crowd. "Was that-" Dean cut him off, pushing him toward their house.

"We're not crazy, right? That was Dad!" Dean turned, shedding his sweater and throwing it on the staircase.

"Yeah, I mean... it looked like him, but maybe it wasn't." Sam reasoned.

"No, it was him. That's not a voice you forget."

"No, Dean. I mean... maybe 'Negan' is the name of the demon who-"

"Lucifer killed all those black-eyed dicks years ago, and before you say it, you know he was goin' after the monsters next, so it's not a fuckin' shifter."

"It could be a demon that Lucifer liked, a right hand."

"If that motherfucker had a demon in Dad, why the hell didn't he use him against us?"

"Maybe it's something stronger than Lucifer, I don't know, Dean, but that can't be Dad. Dad was an asshole, but he wasn't a psycho."

"Yeah, well, we haven't seen him in a decade so he might be, now." Dean sat down on the stairs and rubbed his hands down his face. "Okay. What do we do?"

"I..."

"No, seriously, Sam." Dean stood, beginning to pace from the staircase to the fireplace in the living room. "We've got an evil, murderous, bastard who may be our father, may be a demon wearing his skin, who just took one of the women who live here to do unspeakable things to. We gotta _do_ something. Can't just sit back and let it happen."

"Of course not, Dean, but..." Sam sighed. "We _just_ got here. These people barely know us, they definitely don't trust us. You heard it with Rick just like I did. What do we tell _them_?"

"I don't know, man! We can't just leave without tellin' 'em somethin', but what can we tell 'em except our Dad's that psycho?"

"We can't do anything about the people he's killed but maybe we can save whoever he took. Maybe... we can save Dad, too."

"I hope you're right, Sammy." Dean walked back toward the stairs. "I'm gonna go get some real clothes on."

*****************************************

As they approached the main Grimes house, they could hear shouting. They quietly entered the house, standing in the entrance as Maggie shouted across the living room at Rick. "We can't just sit around and do _nothin'_ , Rick. He killed Glenn and Abraham, he took Daryl and now, he's got y/n! You don't wanna lift a finger to save our people from 'im?"

"Daryl can protect himself from-" Rick started, quietly.

"Yeah, what about y/n? She's not a fighter! She's a runner, a hider, and she can't hide from Negan. You _know_ what he's gonna do to her. You were a goddamn cop, you just gonna let Negan _rape_ her?!"

Dean looked down as Maggie yelled. He was afraid y/n was the one who got taken. "His name's not 'Negan'." He stepped into the living room. "It's John... Winchester."

Everyone turned to the newcomers, faces confused and angry. "Winchester?" Maggie asked.

"Our Dad. He went missing in oh-five. We assumed he was dead. We thought he was dead long before this all started."

"Negan's yer..." Maggie whispered.

"We haven't seen him in forever and he's obviously lost his fuckin' mind since then, but... we wanna help. He'd probably be surprised that we're alive, too, but I'm sure he'd talk to us. We can get him alone, get him to tell us where he put y/n; and your man, Daryl. You don't have to send any of your people after them. You don't have to risk anyone. Just help us find where he lays his head, we'll do the rest."

Maggie looked around the room. "Someone grab a map. We'll plot the points we've seen Negan and his men. Maybe we can get an idea of where they came from."

**********************************

You didn't remember being knocked out, but you were sure that you would never have fallen asleep in the back of that truck. And you knew you would have woken up at some point during the removal of your clothing and the addition of the thick metal cuff chaining you to the wall, had you been dreaming the time away. You curled into a ball and tried to analyze your surroundings without freaking out. Cinderblock room, just a mattress on the ground which you currently sat on. Nothing else. You were fighting tears of panic and cursing yourself for opening your stupid fucking mouth when the door opened and light flooded in. You hugged your knees tight to your chest and folded yourself as small as you could into the corner as Negan stepped into the room. "Oh, good, you're awake. Thought maybe Dwight had been a bit overzealous while he was chokin' you out."

He set his bat against the wall near the door and knelt down next to you. "Let's start with something simple: your name."

You didn't look at him, distracted by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the cold of the room. "Y/n." You whispered.

"'Y/n'. Okay. Now, are you Daryl's girl, y/n?" You shook your head as well as you could while maintaining your fetal position. "Who do you belong to, then?"

"No one." 

"Well, I just don't believe that shit, and I'll tell you why. Women don't shave these days unless they got somebody to impress." He ran his hand down your right leg, eliciting a shiver of disgust and fear. "Smooth as a newborn's ass. You were getting some back in Alexandria."

"No."

"Look, I need to know if one of Rick's men is gonna do something stupid to get you back. So, tell me, who were you fucking?"

"No, he barely knows me. Wishful thinking." You whispered.

He laughed, a toothy grin on his face. "You were just _hoping_ to get dicked! Well, I can definitely help you with that, sweetheart." He grabbed your knee, rough hand putting bruising pressure on the joint. 

"Please, don't." You whined, trying to keep your knees together. You turned to look up at him for the first time, your eyes pleading.

"Aw. With those big ol' doe eyes, you remind me of my dead wife. I'll tell you what..." Negan stood, circling around to the corner of the room as you wondered if he'd killed her, too. "We can do this easy, where you don't fight me, don't tell me 'no', and maybe in a couple days, I let you out to enjoy bein' one of mine... and my girls, they are treated _nice_. Or we could do this the hard way, where you fight me about it and you tell me 'no', something like you'll never let me put my bloodstained hands on your precious skin. And I will _take_ 'no' for an answer 'cause I'm a fuckin' gentleman."

He tapped the bat against the wall lightly. "And I'm also a man who believes in second chances, so I'll give you a chance to reconsider. A couple days without food or water always clears my head _right_ up! And while you're in here, coming to the conclusion that it's _not... that... bad_ , Lucille and I will see how much your buddy, Daryl, likes his toes." He looked at the bat with deep admiration. "I bet it's a lot. People have an irrational attachment to their piggies."

He sighed, turning his attention back to you. "So, what's it gonna be? Easy or hard?" Your mind raced as he leaned against the door frame, tapping Lucille against his boot. Your heartbeat seemed to speed up with every tap. "I could do a countdown, if you need, y/n."

"No! I..." You closed your eyes tightly. "I won't fight you."

"Good choice." Negan pushed away from the wall, smiling down at you. "You know, I'm proud of you. You're the first one of Rick's people to make the sensible choice at the first opportunity! Good for you! Now, here's how this is gonna go. We'll get you some clothes, take you to see the doc for an exam 'cause I don't wanna catch anything you got from a previous dicking, and then, we'll get this show on the road."

He stepped to the door. "Sherry! Come 'ere." A brunette stepped up to him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "This here is my wife, Sherry. The new one, not the dead one. She's gonna take you."

" _I_ am?" Sherry was surprised as Negan handed her the key to the cuff on your ankle.

"I want this back after you clear your exam." Negan took his leather jacket off and tossed it at you. You immediately draped it over yourself, happy to have something to cover you, even if it was his black leather. The smell of Negan on the fabric seemed familiar, almost comforting, which made absolutely no sense to you. "She won't fight. Don't worry about her. If there's one thing I know about little Miss y/n, it's that she's not a fighter. Take her to get some clothes, then have Doc Carson check her out." He walked out as Sherry knelt down and unlocked your chain.

"You're his wife?" You whispered, trying to control your emotions which were bordering into hysteria.

She tossed a glance at the door, and the hallway on the other side. "Not by choice." She whispered.

"And he h-has other... other girls?" You stood, with Sherry's help, and wrapped the jacket around you to better conceal your skin.

"Yeah. I guess... I'm just better cared for. Let's go ahead and get you clothes."

****************

You sat on an exam table, Sherry standing next to you as Dr. Carson prodded and examined you. "You look good. No inflammation, no scarring or discharge. Damn near pristine." The doctor stood straight. "I'll need to get a history from you. Have you ever had sex with a man who has had sex with other men?"

"What? Uh, no."

"Have you ever had sex with anyone who used IV drugs?"

"No." You sighed, shaking your head. "Look, I've only ever been with one guy. That was 10 years ago and I think, if I had any infections or diseases, they'd have shown by now, right?"

Sherry gasped beside you. "You... Oh, I'm so sorry."

"What?" You asked, quietly.

"You... you're an innocent girl."

"I'm 27."

"That doesn't matter. You've... never loved, never... _made_ love. And now, now that you're one of _his_ , you never will." Sherry's voice was full of pain. "I'm so sorry."

"He's going to take care of you, though." Doctor Carson encouraged.

You looked down, fighting the rising panic. "I... can't do any... thing about it, now."

Sherry walked forward, grabbing your hand. "The best thing you can do, is exactly what he asks of you. Don't struggle, don't cry. Just go somewhere else in your head."

You dropped off of the exam table and pulled on your new blue jeans as Doctor Carson handed a piece of paper to Sherry. "Give this to him, please."

She nodded, then put her arm around your shoulder and guided you into the hallway. She nodded at one of Negan's men as she walked you back to your cell. "Please. Before you... lock me back... please, take me to where Daryl is."

"I can't. He's..."

"I just need to know he's okay. Please."

Sherry turned around in the hallway, then swallowed and walked you down a second hallway. She stopped at a door and knocked lightly. "Daryl, you okay in there?" She whispered. A moan was her answer.

You dropped to the ground, trying to see under the door. "Daryl. Daryl, it's y/n. Are you okay?"

"y/n? Why are you..." His voice was faint, barely loud enough to hear through the door.

"I opened my mouth and got Negan's attention, like a dumbass. Are you okay?"

"I'm alive. You with Sherry?"

You took a deep breath. "For now. Once she gives him my clean bill of health... I'll be with him."

"No." He groaned.

"I don't have a choice, but... I'm so happy that you're alive. Just stay that way, okay? We'll figure everything out. We'll fix it." Sherry pulled on the neck of your tee, so you stood and let her push you away toward your cell. As Sherry left you to stand in your cell, you stopped her from closing the door. "Is he rough?"

"It's not that bad. Not if you don't fight it. If you can get yourself wet, somehow, it won't hurt. Think of someone else... if you can."

You couldn't help the sad chuckle that escaped you. "I don't know if I have anybody to think of."

"I'm sorry." She looked down, then closed the door and locked it.

*****************************

Several hours later, the lock thumped open and the door creaked as Lucille showed herself. Always a gentleman, Negan let the lady in first then leaned against the doorjamb next to his beloved. "My wife  _likes_ you. Is that weird?"

"We're so far south of normal, I wouldn't even recognize it." You whispered.

"Yeah, this world full of monsters must be horrible and scary for you, but I've been preparing for this since 1984. Few months after the first wife died. You weren't even alive yet, were you?" You just looked down as he walked into the room and closed the door. "Sherry begged me to go easy on you. Something about being a virgin."

You tucked your hair behind your ears and looked up at him. His salt-and-pepper beard reminded you of Dean's scruff, for some reason, and it made you wonder to yourself if you were already starting to go into Stockholm syndrome. "I'm not... n-not really." You stuttered.

"Aww. You're fuckin' adorable." He shed his leather jacket and tossed it at the corner of the mattress. The comforting smell hit you again and it occurred to you that it reminded you of Dean, as well; the way he'd smelled when he saved your life. Dirt and sweat and blood, what you'd thought was a completely unique man-musk. "See, I got all these bitches around, right? And they throw themselves at my feet, they're great and all, but... Most of 'em are like battleworn whores... covered in scars and way too aggressive. Sherry had a sister like you, soft and innocent. She was also sick. You ain't diabetic, are you?" He asked as he pulled his white tee over his head and tossed it on top of the jacket. You shook your head slightly, swallowing as seeing his muscular chest made it all very real to you.

"You look nervous, y/n. I mean, you _have_ seen a dick before, right?" His tone was challenging and part of you wanted to be snarky, fight back at least verbally, but your stomach clenched at the thought.

"I'm not a virgin." You whispered, instead.

"Good, so you don't need to be walked through how to give a blowjob." You didn't respond, looking down at your bare feet. It wasn't something you had done more than a couple times and you didn't much like it. "Or, maybe you do." He finished, unfastening his belt and dropping his brown jeans to crumple on his boots. You closed your eyes. "No, open those lids, bitch. You said you weren't gonna do this the hard way and I told Sherry I wasn't gonna hurt ya, but if you don't fuckin' act like yer happy to be here, y/n, seems like we're both gonna come up as liars."

You opened your eyes, a tear escaping one of them as your gaze settled on the mass of hair that was the nest his semi-flaccid dick rested in. "Right hand, gently, at the base." He instructed. Your hand shook as you reached forward. "Run that hand up and down, nice and slow, 'til I say to stop." You focused on your hand, on what it was doing, not who you were doing it to. As his dick transformed into a hard-on that pulsed against your palm, he began to make small grunting noises. "Stop. That's good. Now, lick the head." He demanded.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as a desert as you moved to your knees in front of him. Your lips trembled as you opened them to let your tongue out. More tears rolled down your cheeks as you did as you were told, slowly licking the tip of his penis, deliberately and repeatedly. The sweaty taste made you want to gag, but you worked past it, moving your tongue across the head, then flicking it quickly along the frenulum, experimentally. "Nice." He grunted, his right hand going to the back of your head to grab a fistful of your hair. "Open your mouth. Wide. Tongue out." 

You followed directions, letting out a squeal as he tightened up his grip on your hair and yanked your head forward. You gagged, your throat rebelling against the sudden intrusion, and you coughed as he pulled back. "Try not to gag. It's not gonna be fun for either of us if you hark all over my dick. I'd have to make you lick me clean." You opened your mouth wide again and wiped your tears away as he pushed his cock back into your mouth, less forcefully than before. "Good girl. Now, get my dick all nice and wet, sweetheart. Close your lips, nice and tight." He tugged on your hair and began to move his hips, giving off grunting noises every time your nose hit his pubic bone.

The hand in your hair tightened, then released, as he pulled back. The hand moved to his dick, using your saliva and the mucus from your throat as lube as he began to masturbate. "Keep the mouth open. You're gonna swallow every drop." He set his dick on your tongue and it jumped and twitched as it shot cum into your mouth. The salty taste made you cringe, but you swallowed just as you were instructed, then looked up at Negan's face. You weren't sure what was next, you hoped nothing. He patted your cheek and chuckled. "You are a good little bitch, aren't you? Follow directions like one of those show dogs. Pull my pants up, little show bitch."

You held back a sigh of relief as you reached forward, pulling his pants back up to his hips. It was over, at least for now. He took a step back, tucking himself into his jeans and refastening his belt as you reached back to grab his shirt and jacket. "Now, I got shit to do, but you, so good at following directions, you are gonna go find Dwight. D is gonna set you up with a bed and some more clothes, some food. You must be starving. I can trust you ain't gonna run, now." He pulled his shirt and jacket on, leaving the leather unzipped over the white tee. "When I decide it's time to make that pussy mine, I'll send one of my guys for you and when I _do_ , you better show up clean and eager. And you better do something about those tears, cause there's only one thing I want getting my mattress wet." He smiled like he'd made a joke, then grabbed Lucille and pushed the door open.

You stared at the open door for a long few minutes before you stood and walked slowly into the hall. At the end of the hall, near Daryl's cell, a tall fat man stood. You walked up, breathing steadily. "I'm su-supposed to f-find Dwi-ight." You cursed yourself for stuttering, but the fat man didn't seem to notice.

"He's at the mess."

"Where would that be?" He didnt respond, so you nodded and walked away. "I'll find him myself, I guess."

"He's got scars on his face." The man advised as you were about to exit the hallway into a courtyard area. You wandered around the Sanctuary, making yourself small and hugging the wall whenever anyone walked by or you walked past anyone. To your surprise, everyone ignored you. Eventually, you found a pantry area, where a skinny strawberry blonde man stood watching the exchange of food. You approached him. "You're Dwight?"

"You're y/n. Negan let you out already? You must have kneeled  _real_ quick." He didn't look at you as he spoke, looking past you, instead. 

You closed your eyes, trying to not tear up. "I do what I have to do to stay alive. He sent me to find you. Said you'd set me up."

"Come on." He walked away toward a rack of clothing, similar to the one Sherry took you to earlier. "What's your shoe size?"

"7-ish." You answered. Dwight grabbed a shoe box and handed it to you, then grabbed several pieces of clothes, piling them on top of your shoe box. 

"You eaten?" He disappeared after you shook your head and reappeared with a chunk of bread and three cans of Spam. "There's an empty bed over with Negan's other girls, or there's one with the people who work for points."

"Which would you recommend?"

"I'd stay away from Negan's other girls. If they think you're a threat, they'll try to scare you... or worse. Sherry is protected from that shit, she's the wife, but..."

"I'll take the other bed, then." You responded, quickly.

You followed Dwight to an area with a bed, enclosed by sheets hanging from wires. You set your clothes and shoes on the bed and turned to Dwight, about to thank him, but stopped when you caught his pensive face. "Become his favorite." He said, finally, after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. "You're hot so you've already got a leg up on some of the others, but... become his favorite and he won't let anyone else touch you. His guys, guys like me, we get time with his women sometimes, but his favorites, they're just for him. So... do what you have to."

You swallowed, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat and sitting on the bed as Dwight pushed his way through the sheet that was your bedroom door.


	4. Favorite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit more John in my Negan this chapter. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to thank everyone for the kudos and comments, but I get so excited to add a new chapter that I forget. This is way more popular than I was expecting it to be. Thank you all, especially Clara_L, thebeastinsideusall, and WinchesterUnited for your support!

Sam watched from the stairs as Dean and Maggie went over maps. It had ceased to be about tracking their father down and quickly become about finding the girl. Dean hadn't mentioned John since they started plotting locations and changed the topic as soon as anyone else brought him up. Sam was certain that it wasn't John. He remembered him, what an asshole he'd been. Pushy, demanding, obsessive, but not insane. He couldn't even imagine that monster the Alexandrians had described was actually the man who'd taught him how to shoot, how to hunt, how to help people. How to save people. No way in Hell does John Winchester murder people with a baseball bat and kidnap women to rape them. 

A demon would. A shifter would. Almost any sort of monster. But not John. Sam stood and grabbed his brother's attention. Dean followed him into the front yard. "Dean... What if they're dead? We have to consider what we'll do in that situation."

"Y/n's not dead." Dean dismissed.

"Dean... that demon is obviously not taking any shit. If she fought him-"

"She didn't." Dean was certain.

"How can you know that?"

"Because that's why Dad took her! She's soft." He spat out, angrily. He sighed, heavily, looking around the green yards which matched poorly with the horrible reality of the situation. "She's sweet, innocent. Southern Bella in there said it, Sammy, she's a hider. She's never hurt another human being, never even put down a zombie. She doesn't have it in her. She won't fight Negan. She'll go along with whatever he says because that's how she'll survive. I just hope we can get to her before he does something that scars her for life."

Sam nodded. "You guys getting anywhere? The maps?" 

Dean nodded. "We won't know anything 'til we check it out, but... Maybe getting somewhere."

Sam nodded. It wasn't hard to see why Dean was so obsessed with getting y/n back. They'd come across quite a few women as attractive as her since Lucifer unleashed the apocalypse, (admittedly fewer and fewer as the years passed) but none who'd survived purely on their wits and determination. Sam was impressed that she'd never taken out a zombie and it bolstered his faith in her survival skills, but... demons were vastly different from zombies. Zombies were slow and predictable, only really a problem in large groups. A single demon, however...  

Sam sighed and patted his brother's shoulder. "I'm hungry. See if I can't run down some food."

"Ask Eric if there's any spaghetti sauce left. I'll eat it straight if there's no pasta." Dean said, before hopping up the porch stairs to reenter the house.

*********************

You stayed in your 'room', watching peoples' movements and analyzing the building for hours before you left, new shoes insulating your feet from the cold concrete. You moved around the main building to the outside, checking every exit, committing every face to memory, making special note of which men were Negan's special guys. Which men were Negan. You spoke to a few people, quiet ones who seemed like they were just trying to survive. On the third day of your 'freedom', the fat man approached you. "Show dog, Negan wants you. Said to hit a shower, then come see him."

You fought to not show the cringe that went through you. "Only Negan calls me that, fat-ass." You said, clinging to a false bravado. 

"It's 'Fat Joey', and I _am_ Negan."

"Yeah, well, I apparently belong to Negan... but I don't belong to you, Fat Joey. So obviously, you're not Negan enough." You said, grabbing a pair of clean jeans and a clean white v-neck shirt and pushing past the man to go shower. The water was cold; hot water being a luxury for those who didn't work for points. You could've gone to the other showers but you heeded Dwight's advice about Negan's other women. 

Your mind poured over the information you'd gained from your fellow meek Sanctuary dwellers. Negan wasn't as bad as he seemed. He saved them. The people who were originally here, they were dying and Negan and Lucille saved them. That's why he and his men were Saviors. Negan was a veteran, a Marine. Everything he did, it was for the good of his people. He had to keep his people alive first and, like it or not, you were one of his now. Just do what you're told, keep your head down, kneel when you see the man... become his favorite...

As you pulled a two blade, disposable razor up your leg, you imagined how you would've have reacted to this situation _before_ everything went to shit. You were hit on by a lot of older men, mostly doctors who were old enough to need those little blue pills themselves, when you were a pharma rep, but none like Negan. Physically, the man was attractive in much the same way Dean was. Nice muscles, pretty eyes, a beautiful (if not completely psychotic) smile and his cock wasn't bad, not that you had a lot of reference. If you hadn't  _known_ he was insane, you were certain you wouldn't have any trouble with the man. 

And that's what you clung to as you dried yourself off with your one allotted towel and put on your simple clothing choice, not bothering with a bra or panties. 'Every villain is a hero in his own mind'. Negan is a savior and not an evil man. He's just a man trying to do right by his people. A man, maybe driven a little mad by the power of ruling a group. It's one of the reasons why you traveled alone for so long. 

You found yourself in front of one of Negan's rooms, your damp hair clinging to the back of your shirt. It wasn't where he slept, but it was where he entertained himself, where you would entertain him. You took a deep breath. You knew what was coming but you weren't sure exactly _how._ You knocked at the door, lightly, then dropped to one knee as you heard him approach the door. He chuckled when he opened it. "You learn fast, don't'cha? Stand up. Get in here."

Your eyes fell on the bed first, a mattress with pillows and a comforter, jacked up by several stacks of blond pallets. Your eyes then searched the room for Lucille. As Negan closed the door, you found her, tucked behind a television set playing a VHS of 'Cheers'. You breathed a sigh of relief. He was never without her, but at least the weapon was away from arms reach. "Want something to drink? A little Hunter's Helper?" He offered, picking up a bottle of whiskey from the counter. You nodded, hopefully not too eagerly, excited to have something to dull your senses. Even if it was Wild Turkey 101.

You gave a tight smile as he handed you a glass half-full and you took a gulp as you looked at the TV. "I used to watch this on 'Nick at Night' when I was a kid."

Negan sat in the recliner, but didn't look at the show. He focused on you, even as he took his own mouthful of liquor. "How do you like my Sanctuary?"

You bit the inside of your lip, taking a moment before answering. "It's not bad. I've lived worse places. My dorm at college was chaos, like an all-girl 'Lord of the Flies' without the pigs to hunt." You took another drink of whiskey, which burned the inside of your lip, where you'd apparently broken the skin. "You run a tight ship, which makes sense, I guess, since you used to be a Marine. That where you got the skills to keep people safe from walkers?"

"Not even close." He sat forward in his seat. "But it's not the zombies that are the problem. Zombies are useful. They guard our gates. It's people. People are the problem. I run a tight ship because I can tell which _problems_ are fixable... and which _problems_ get to guard the gate."

A copper taste brought your attention to your lip, which you'd taken to biting again. You took another drink, then continued on your 'military' line of questioning. "You know I, uh, I grew up in an Air Force town."

"Pussies." He interjected, somehow leaning forward more.

You forced a chuckle. "Yeah. You're right. But small town... Service was pretty much the only way out. Most of my friends went Army. Hoo-ah." 

"This where you tell me you've decided to give me the benefit of the doubt due to my service to a now-nonexistent country about 20 years before you were born?"

"No, sir." You replied, squaring your shoulders. "It's where I tell you that Abraham Ford was Army and he'd be cursin' up a storm if he knew a fuckin' jarhead put him down."

He laughed, rather than make an angry move for Lucille as you'd feared he might. He stood, slowly, taking his glass over to the counter to pour more Wild Turkey. Then, he returned to his line of questioning. "You ever killed anybody?"

"No." You answered, simply, your tongue darting out to mess with the bite inside your mouth. 

"You must've made it inside the walls of Alexandria fucking quick if you never saw any truly desperate people."

"I saw plenty of desperate people. They just never saw _me_." You set your glass next to the TV and leaned against the TV stand. "Daryl brought me into Alexandria just a couple months before any of us heard your name." 

"You survived by hiding? What, from everyone? How'd Daryl get his hands on ya?" He leaned against the counter, mimicking your stance. 

"Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque, wound up trapped in some warehouse in West Virginia. Ghouls were chasing me, I fell through a rotted staircase into this basement electrical closet. Broke my leg, cracked my skull. I laid in that basement for two days, completely certain I was dead. I mean, the barricade I put at the door was sure to fail before I dehydrated to death. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. I was pretty gone when Daryl busted through my barricade and came to find me. He said he knew I was there 'cause the walkers were acting like hound dogs or coon dogs or... something 'had a raccoon treed'. He put me on the front of his bike, _tied_ me to his waist and hauled ass back to Alexandria. Denise set my leg, let the pressure out of my head and I was fine to meet new people for the first time in years."

"And then I showed up and started killin' 'em."

You shook your head. "We killed your men first." You shrugged. "They deserved it. Had to know folks would fight back when you try to take their shit."

"Not their shit, anymore. It's mine."

"Yeah, _now_ , 'cause you broke Rick, but when Daryl blew up your men with a rocket launcher, that rocket launcher was Abraham's."

He laughed. "Rocket launcher! Fucking crazy as fuck." 

You chuckled, relaxing a bit. Now that the liquor had started to warm you, he didn't seem so menacing, anymore. "Yeah... That was pretty fucking crazy."

"So, where were you heading in West Virginia?" He picked his glass up and began to drink again.

"Nowhere. Back then, I kinda just wanted to keep moving. Staying in one place just seemed like a bad idea. My parents died last time I tried to make a home someplace. What made you stay here?"

"Seemed as good a place as any. And these people needed my help. That's what I did back then, I helped people."

"And now?"

"Now, I help me." He pushed away from the counter, sliding his glass next to the bottle as he moved toward you. "I take what I want, when I want because that's how the world works now. The guy who can put down a herd of zombies with a baseball bat and some big cajones, he gets everything he's ever desired."

"Except his dead wife back." You whispered as he stopped in front of you.

"Yeah. Except for that."

"What was her name?" You asked, shaking a bit as he reached over and grabbed a piece of your hair, still damp from your shower.

"Mary."

"Were you together long? You said she died in '83?"

"I don't wanna talk about my wife. The dead one or the new one."

"Okay. I just... with Sherry, I know who I'm up against. I was just trying to get a feel for... what kind of competition I've got from the memory of a ghost." You reasoned. You lied. In fact, you were hoping that thinking of his first wife would turn him off from his plans for you. 

"You vying to be Wife #3?" He ran his hand down the front of your v-neck, pulling the front hem up to expose your breasts. 

"I have no delusions about my reason for being here, Negan. I-I'm here for just one thing and I can be the one you like most or... or I can look forward to wa-watching the gate." You covered.

"You're cute when you lie." He pulled the shirt over your head, twisting the fabric when it got to your wrists and holding your arms, tangled in white cotton, above your head. "You were trying to use Mary against me. Smart move. You know, I'm impressed by the manipulation..." You tried to look down, away from him, but his left hand grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his face. "...and how you picked up on the importance of Mary from, what, two mentions of her. I toss her memory around so people think I don't give a fuck. How'd you know?" 

"It was a guess." You whispered.

"Lie." His left hand dropped to your hip, the thumb digging into your muscle, putting pressure on a sensitive point just above where your jeans sat. It caused your knee to buckle but he held you up by your wrists.

"Your eyes!" You squealed, shifting as much weight to your good leg as you could. "When you first mentioned her, the 'Doe-eyes' thing, you smiled, but not with your eyes.  _Your_ eyes were sad." You responded, quickly.

He ceased the pressure, but kept his hand in place, thumb tapping the spot which was sure to be bruised in a couple hours. "Damn. Would've been great at the investigation side, if the world hadn't ended." He mumbled to himself before untangling the shirt from your wrists and pulling it completely away from you. "She was beautiful, had a tough attitude, but motherhood softened her like butter. She was too good for me, even back when I was a good man." He dropped the shirt to the floor at your feet and let your arms drop to your sides.

"You... you could be good..." You whispered as he unbuttoned your jeans.

"You're not here to preach at me. I'm fine with the man I am, now. I have fun, so... you just need to get on board." 

"I am. I'm on board with whatever you want of me. I, I want to be."

"I want you on the bed." He dropped your jeans to your feet and you reflexively stepped out of them as he pulled you toward the mattress. He lifted you, tossing you a short distance to the middle of the bed, your head somehow landing right below the pillows. He grabbed your ankle and rubbed a rough thumb across your shin. "You shaved for me. Even trimmed that pretty bush. Oh, and that gorgeous pink blush all the way down to your tits. Hard bitches don't blush." You closed your eyes, feeling the heat of that blush in your cheeks. His hand continued its journey up your right leg stopping at an inch-long, thick white scar on the outside of your calf. "Looks like a stab wound." He looked up at you as he ran his thumb up and down the small patch of discoloration.

"Um, there was a, uh, trap somebody set up in the woods in Alabama, where they sharpened all the thick twigs on a low-hanging branch and bend it back, tie it off. Mom walked into it, I pushed her out of the way, got a pointy twig in my leg for the trouble."

His hand moved up to your abs, where a thin, jagged scar ran from your belly button to just below the pressure point Negan had jammed his thumb into. "And this one?"

You chuckled, tightly. "Barbed wire fence got me. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my jacket to hold the wire down, so I tried to just vault over it... I'm lucky I was up on my tetanus booster. It could've been bad."

"No bullet wounds, no knife scars. Look at you. Hell, the only  _bruises_ on you are the ones I put there. You are near mint condition." He scoffed, but not derisively. He seemed almost awed by you. "Even  _nearly_ a virgin. There's that blush again." He slid his hand up, between the valley of your breasts, to lay across your collarbone. "You are not to move. This will be far less fun for you if I have to tie you down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, making sure not to move your head.

"Those manners..." He mumbled, before bracing his left arm on the mattress and vaulting his fully clothed and booted body onto the bed, straddling your nude form. He looked you over, before grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head. He didn't have to tell you not to move them from the pillow. You entwined your fingers together as he leaned over you and brought your earlobe between his lips, scraping his teeth across the soft skin. It wasn't until he'd kissed, licked and nipped from your ear to the crook of your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as his hands dragged up and down your arms, that it dawned on you that it felt good. Why would he want you to feel good?

The question disintegrated in your head as he moved down your body to catch your left nipple between his lips. Your right breast came under attack from his left hand, grabbing it lightly and rolling it under his palm. You wiggled under the weight of his body, unable to prevent your body's search for friction. His ministrations stopped immediately, as he pulled back and looked down at you. "What'd I say?"

"I'm sorry. I, I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'll try harder." You were breathless.

"Aw. Am I neglecting something?" He asked, bringing his right knee between your legs and rubbing his jean-clad knee against your mound. You moaned, your hands clenched together while you tried to remind yourself not to move, not to rub yourself against the man. "What do you want me to do to you?"

You swallowed, unable to think clearly. "Whatever you want."

"Good answer." He dipped his head down to lick at your neck, his knee rubbing persistent pressure in between your thighs. He pulled it away, moving down your body, trailing kisses across your skin. He ran his tongue across the barbed wire scar, then dipped it into the juncture where your leg and hip meet. You jumped, his tongue suddenly drawing circles around your clit, but he didn't stop to reprimand you this time, instead putting his right hand on your abs to hold you down as he began to lick deliberate, rough stripes from your opening to your clit.

"Oh, god." You whined, squirming under his strong grip as the middle finger of his left hand sunk easily into you. As he added his first finger, you brought your hands down to cover your eyes, in an mad attempt to control something. With his fingers fucking you with expert precision and his mouth making obscene slurping noises against your womanhood, it was easy to forget yourself. Forget what brought you to the Sanctuary, forget the demeaning way he'd treated you since you got here, forget anything and everything except the man between your thighs, worshipping you with his mouth. As your orgasm built inside of you, it just didn't seem to matter. 

It crashed over you, tendrils of pleasure snaking across your body as you tried to not hyperventilate. He slid away again, dropping off the bed and toeing his boots off as you nervously moved your hands back to the pillow. He dropped his jacket to the ground, followed by his shirt and pants, then crawled onto the bed, his erection dragging along the comforter beneath you. He looked down at you, before pressing a bruising, possessive kiss on your lips. "You don't have to worry. I  _already_ like you better than the others."

The noise you made as his cock found your entrance and quickly sunk into you, sliding in easily amongst the lubrication your body provided and his own saliva, was somewhere between a moan and a squeal. There was pain, of course. He was bigger than anything you'd had, even your old toys, definitely bigger than those two fingers he'd just had in you. He'd given you no time to adjust before slamming balls deep, so there was definitely pain.

But pain is fleeting and it was quickly dominated by the wholy unique feeling of fullness. "Shit!" He groaned. "Do that again."

"What?" You hadn't realized you'd done anything.

"That clenching, kegel thing you just did."

"Oh." You breathed out, before repeating the action. 

"Ooh. Goddamn, if more women did that, we'd have no problem getting the population back." He reached down and hooked your legs behind his back, then took each of your hands in his, rubbing a thumb over each palm. "Now, you put these hands wherever you need to. You move however you want. Participation is not only encouraged, I'd say it's damn near required, at this point."

You nodded, tightening your legs around him and putting your hands on his shoulders. He put his left hand on your hip and put the other on mattress, next to your head for support. He gave you another moment to get ready, then, he began to move.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt. His girth rubbed against the sensitive walls inside you, his cock head reaching your cervix with every motion. You moaned, your hands clutching at his neck and back. "Oh, my God!"

"You're a fuckin' dream, y/n." He grunted into your ear as he fucked you into the mattress. "So hot. So wet. So fucking pretty and pure." He pulled out, unhitching your legs and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up onto your hands and knees. "And you're mine."

You whimpered as he grabbed your hair and slammed back into you. "Yes." You whispered, your neck craning as he used your hair as leverage.

"What?" He demanded, pounding into you, his balls slapping against you in a quick rhythm. 

"Yes! I'm yours. Negan, God... Yours."

"Damn straight." He grunted as he reached around to move his fingers, roughly across your clit. Your arms gave out as another orgasm slammed into your nerves, your head meeting the mattress. Negan continued to fuck you, picking up speed and pounding your face into the comforter. His hand tightened in your hair as he gave several more pumps, then stilled as his cock spilled inside of you, twitching happily within your walls.

He pulled out and collapsed to the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavily. "So..." He started, sliding his arm around you and turning you to lay your head on his chest. "Best you ever had?"

"Definitely." You whispered.

"Aren't you glad you got my attention?"

"Yes, sir." You weren't. Definitely rather be home in Alexandria, but... It could be worse. He could be more horrid. And that was a fairly amazing... workout session.

"I like that respect, y/n, but..." He sighed, deeply, satisfaction emanating from him. "As long as we're alone and I'm in a good fuckin' mood, I won't call you 'bitch' or a show dog name... and you can call me 'John'."

"Thank you." You relaxed against his chest. 

"That was a  _workout._  We're gonna need a nap before we get to work."

"Work?"

"Oh, sweetheart. Can't have my  _favorite_ girl walking around unable to defend herself. Hiding only gets you so far, y/n."

You sat up a little and looked down at him. "You're going to, what, teach me to fight? Aren't... Aren't you concerned I might-"

"Fight back against me? No. I'm not gonna teach you enough to kill me. And I'm _certain_ that you don't hate me near as much as you did when you walked in here. Right?"

"Right." You responded, lying your head on his chest again and sighed. "You seem to be right a lot of the time, John." You experimented with his first name. It definitely didn't have the same fear factor as 'Negan', but neither did the man you were lying with. 

"I try." He wrapped his arm around you tighter and adjusted the pillow under his head with the other hand. "Get some rest, gorgeous."


	5. A dog named Muffy

Sam couldn't decide whether he wanted to find the Saviors' Sanctuary. He didn't want to confront whatever was wearing their Dad, but he knew they had to. Dean had a thing for y/n, which was shocking and important because Dean hadn't shown more than a single night's worth of purely physical interest in a woman since before Pestilence released the sickness. He'd shut down. Survival and Sam, nothing else mattered, especially after Bobby and Cas went. Saving this girl, maybe saving Dad, that might be an avenue to bring Dean's humanity back.

So, Sam pulled out his binoculars and scanned the compound for signs of Negan or his Saviors. "This is the place. That dickbag with the Harvey Dent face, he was at Alexandria." Dean was suddenly next his brother, pointing at a blond man near the fence, eating a sandwich on the stairs. 

"So, avoid the zombies being used as guard dogs, avoid... _Harvey's_ crossbow bolts, find Dad, exorcise him- where are you going?" Sam scrambled after Dean, who walked straight for the fence, putting his machete through the brains of four chained-up zombies before the blond man even had an opportunity to stand up and grab his bow. 

"Who are you?! Drop your weapons! What the fuck are you doing?" The man yelled, pointing his crossbow at Dean.

"Well, what first, the explanation or the weapon? 'cause I don't wanna be shot in the eye 'cause you got nervous while I was talkin'."

"Drop your weapons, then state your fucking purpose."

"Okay." Sam nodded as they both placed their machetes on the ground. "We're here to see Negan."

"And don't give us none of that 'no one sees the Wizard' shit. He's gonna wanna see us. Go tell him Dean and Sam are at the gate." Dean stood defiantly, hands going into the pockets of his jacket.

"That supposed to mean something to him?"

"No, it holds no significance. We just want him to know our names before he kills us for wasting his time." Dean responded, sarcastically.

He looked at the building behind him, before dropping the crossbow to his side and turning. "Fat Joey!" A large fat man rushed to the fence line. "If they move, shoot 'em."

"Got it, D." The fat man raised a shotgun and Dean rolled his eyes. 

"We could've done this with a bit more finesse, Dean."

Dean ignored him, nodding at the door behind Fat Joe. "See that, on the door?"

Sam squinted his eyes to get a better look without moving. "Blood?"

"Look better, man. I'm pretty sure that's an Enochian warding sigil. Keeps angels out."

"Great. So, definitely gotta be..."

"Either Dad or a demon. Nothing changed."

"But Dad wouldn't know any Enochian."

"You don't know that.  _We_ learned some."

"Yeah, but we had Cas to teach us."

"And Dad's the guy who learned to track demons by crop death. He-" Dean cut himself off as the door to the building opened and Negan appeared, the blond man following behind. 

"Well, hol-y shit. Look at this." Negan stepped down the stairs and stepped up next to the fence. "I was sure you boys were dead."

"Yeah, well, we had the same thought. You gonna let us in, or what?" Dean spat.

"Yeah, of course. Dwight, go let them in." Negan ordered, pointing at the fence with Lucille. The brothers bent down and grabbed their machetes, maneuvering their way between zombies to the gate where they were given entrance.

"So... 'Negan'." Dean said, pointedly, looking their father up and down. He looked like he was well cared for.

"Yeah, let's have this conversation somewhere else." Negan walked back up the stairs and started moving through the hallways, Dean and Sam following. Anyone they came across fell to their knees in a bow. Negan entered a room and shut the door behind Sam. He set Lucille on a table next to a tv and turned to the brothers. "You boys look pretty damn good, considering."

"Considering the end of the world or considering you haven't seen us in 10 years?" Dean sneered.

"Both, I guess."

"Where'd you go?" Sam inquired, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, trying to remember that it probably wasn't John.

"I couldn't stay. Once I figured out your destinies... once I realized that _you_ are the reason my wife  _died_..." His face went from angry to smug. "Well, I just couldn't stick around to watch you boys destroy the world."

"You... you _knew_? You knew that we were gonna be... vessels and we were gonna pop the seals on Lucifer's Cage?" Dean inquired.

"I figured it out... much faster than you."

"And you didn't warn us?! Instead of staying and helping us to stop it, railing against our  _fucking_ destinies, you bail on us?!" Dean growled.

"I couldn't even look at you boys, let alone stop you from busting the Seals. How'd you manage to stay alive through all that?"

Dean looked down. He was so full of rage that he couldn't answer so Sam put a hand on his shoulder and answered for him. "We were strong for each other, kept each other from saying 'yes' to being vessels. Lucifer... won because Michael didn't have a vessel to fight him. He's probably still jumping from survivor to survivor. Vessels can't contain him for long."

"Because they're not _you_ , right? Because they weren't fed demon blood as a kid. Oh, and as a man in his 20s who _really_ should have known better."

"How do you know about-"

"I might not have been able to stand to be around you, but I definitely followed your lives. Dean with his trip to Hell, his little apprenticeship with Hell's official torturer. Your relationship with Ruby, being manipulated into an addiction to _blood_." Negan sighed and flopped down in his recliner. "Unfortunately, Missouri bit the dust after Lucifer sent out his virus. She was bitten on day... 20. She was Lucille's first victim."

"Missouri Mosely. That's how you kept tabs on us. Right." Dean muttered. 

"How'd you find me?" Negan asked, leaning forward.

"Oh, we weren't lookin' for you. No, we were just travelin' the country, killin' zombies, helpin' people. Ended up in Virginia, saved a chick who took us in. You might know 'er. You abducted her from Alexandria a couple weeks ago." Dean glared at Negan as he spoke the words.

"Well, doesn't that make sense? Even in the apocalypse, you're a ladies man." Negan stood, an amused look on his face as he stepped in front of Dean. "She told me that there was a man she was holdin' out hope for. 'Just met him, barely knows me'." He mocked her voice. "Well, you're here so I'm guessing you were interested in her, too?"

Dean stood his ground, not letting his training as his father's soldier get in the way. "I'm here because my father, John Winchester, is the maniac, Negan, who's terrorizing the people who took us in." 

"'Maniac'?" Negan laughed, a loud barking sound. "I'm just a man doing what I have to do to keep my people in food and ammo. Rick and his people killed a Helluva bunch more o' _my_ folks. They tell you about that? Of course, not."

"Where's y/n?" Dean pressed.

"She's around. She's fine. Don't you worry about her." He smirked, the right side of his mouth turning up. "I don't know how you feel about sloppy seconds, Dean, but if tears turn you on, she's ready for ya."

As disgust pulled at their features, Dean shook his head. "You know, I don't wanna do this. Because I'm so afraid that I'm right, that Sammy's wrong about you, but... what just came out of your mouth... cristo."

Negan laughed. "I'm not a _demon_ , Dean! Far as I can tell, your pal Lucifer got rid of 'em. Thank God for that, right?" 

"What happened to you?" Sam whispered as Negan grabbed Lucille from the tv stand and leaned against it. "Dad, wh-why are you-"

"Well, I put my skills to good _use_ , Sammy. I spent decades helping people, trying to turn you boys into men who'd keep the world safe and it didn't mean a damn thing. You two disappointments _ended_ the fucking world. So, I did what you were doing, traveled the country, killed zombies, _saved_ people. But damn if that didn't make me  _feel_ any better." Negan tapped Lucille against the floor. "Then, I found this place. These people were flailing, couldn't keep themselves going, so I came in, taught them how to work as a community, laid down rules and I took the place. I saved their stupid lives and they... put... me... in charge. You know what they say about power. Absolutely." 

"Here's how this is gonna go, Dad. You're gonna tell us where y/n is, you're gonna tell us where Daryl is and you're gonna let us take them when we go, because you know us. You trained us, and you know that Sammy and me and our machetes versus you and Lucille, that'll come out on our side and once you're dead, all those guys you've been suppressing, all the women you've been forcing yourself on... well, these days people seize on an opportunity real damn quick and all your men, they'll be the ones attached to that fence."

Negan looked at Dean, boredly, then patted his shoulder. "You can have one of 'em. Daryl _or_ y/n, not both."

"No, we are-" Sam started, but Negan cut him off, suddenly very serious.

"If you think I won't put you down, 'cause you're my sons, you are mistaken. If you think I only fight with Lucille, you are mistaken. If you think I'm stupid enough to let you in here with machetes and I don't have half a dozen guns hidden, within reach, in this room... you guessed it. Mistaken. You pick _one._ "

"Y/n!" Dean answered, after looking around to try and locate the weapons.

"Daryl, it is." Negan smiled and walked to the door. "Hey, Muffy!" He called down the hallway as Sam searched for weapons and Dean cursed their father's switch-up. "You're going to take my sons to Daryl's cell. You're gonna choke Daryl out like I taught you and these boys are gonna carry him out. You try to leave with 'em and I will be  _mighty_ unhappy. You clear on that?"

"Yes, sir." A soft voice said, before Negan swung the door open the rest of the way.

**********

Dwight came to tell you the news as soon as Negan disappeared with the machete-weilding men. You waited down the hallway, on one knee, hoping to hear something. You could hear laughter, once, but mostly nothing carried down the hall. It was only a few minutes, though, before the door opened a bit and Negan called down the hall. "Hey, Muffy!" The dog-name. Shit. You stood, shakily and walked to the door, sure you were in trouble. He smiled sweetly and you felt a bit more at ease. "You're going to take my sons to Daryl's cell." Your eyes widened at 'sons' but you didn't say anything. "You're gonna choke Daryl out like I taught you and these boys are gonna carry him out. You try to leave with 'em and I will be _mighty_ unhappy. You clear on that?"

"Yes, sir." You answered, softly. 'Muffy' plus 'mighty unhappy' meant 'don't fucking do it'. Negan stepped out of the way as he swung the door open the rest of the way to reveal Dean and Sam, whose mouths dropped in confusion. You cleared your throat, knowing why he'd felt the need to threaten you. They must've come to save you and Daryl and... sons?!?! "This way." You managed to whisper, stepping back from the door.

"Y/n?!" Dean followed you into the hall. Sam rushed after the two of you.

"It's 'Muffy'." Negan corrected as the door swung shut.

Dean grabbed your arm as you turned a corner but you quickly twisted out of his grasp. "Do you know what 'Muffy' means, Dean? It means I've lost privileges to my _name._ It means I need to be a good dog or he and Lucille go to town on me. That means, that bat going places I never want..." 

"God, I'm so sorry." Dean was horrified, but you shook your head.

"Shouldn't even be talking to you. His fucking son." You muttered, starting to walk again. "John... Winchester, then." 

"Hey, we didn't know. We thought he was dead." Dean was at your side again.

"It doesn't matter." You whispered. Dean didn't like that, pushing your back against a wall.

"It matters. I'm sorry, okay. I'm so sorry. How bad is he to you?"

You chuckled. "He's not bad, long as I do what I'm told, which... hasn't been a problem since I figured out what he is."

"And what's that?" 

"You wouldn't understand.  _You_ thought he went insane when your mom died."

"He told you about that?" Sam's eyes pulled down in sadness.

You turned your head to look at the taller man. "He told me everything. The nursery fire, the yellow-eyed creature, monsters, angels and demons, Horsemen and Satan... the end of the fucking world. I just never pictured you two as the ones who started it all."

"We tried to stop it, we..."

You cut Sam off. "Well, you failed. This is the world now and it's your fault. My parents, my sister, my nephew, everyone I ever cared about, dead within a matter of months because a couple of monster hunters couldn't keep Satan in his damn box. And here I am, survived the worst, out-run zombies and hidden from Wolves, just to be taken by your father!"

"If you don't want to be here, come with us!" Dean demanded. 

You scoffed. "I'd never make it _to_ the gate, let alone _through_ it. He'd pick me off with the rifle long before then." You took a deep breath, then shook your head and kept walking. "Negan has eyes everywhere. Someone's always watching. We got two pairs of eyes on us, at least, right now. Never make it. But you can get _Daryl_ out. He's more of an asset for Alexandria, anyway."

"I don't care about assets. I came here to get _you_." Dean pressed.

"You came to get a squirrelly woman who can barely aim a gun and you're leaving with the best tracker I've ever met; most amazing marksman. And he's Rick's right hand. I'd say that is an upgrade."

"Yeah, not one I asked for. If this Daryl is as badass as you think, the four of us can fight our way out."

You stopped in front of Daryl's door and turned to Dean. A flash of light caught a mirror at the end of the hall, catching your attention. Dwight's stringy locks could be seen in the compact. Eyes everywhere. "We would never make it. Trust me." You fought back tears as you took a steadying breath. "Now, you are gonna take  _Daryl_ and you're gonna forget about me, because I'm just some chick who made you spaghetti."

Dean looked down at you, sadness pulling at his features. "Shoulda carpe'd on Spaghetti Night, huh?"

"Told you."

"Wish I'd listened." The kiss was sudden and, at first, nice. Your hand came up to his cheek, enjoying his stubble almost as much as your tongue enjoyed his tongue. As you started to kiss him back, though, your brain screamed * _PANIC*_ at you, pushing loads of adrenaline into your bloodstream and making you pull away from Dean, sputtering.

Dwight had seen that, which means Negan saw it, which meant Muffy and Lucille were going to have a playdate. "I-I can't. You aren't  _him,_ so I... I-I'm  _his_ and I'm, I'm good with directions and you're not him and I'm gonna be in trouble." You realized immediately how childlike and crazy that sounded, but it was all you knew to say. You turned to put your hand on the deadbolt. "I'm not crazy. I know how that sounded, but... I'm his favorite. I'm  _his._ "

"So you keep saying." Dean muttered, as you opened the door.

Daryl looked up, his eyes squinting at you in the light. "Daryl, these guys are from Alexandria. They're gonna take you home."

"You?" You shook your head. "I ain't goin'."

"Yes, you are." You insisted. "You're gonna go get well, kick Rick's ass in gear and save your people. Your friends. I'm an inconsequential speck, okay? He broke me within _hours_ but you... it's on you to make sure that Lil' Asskicker and Baby Rhee grow up strong. You owe that to Glenn. Now, Negan's not gonna let you _walk_ out of here, but he's gonna let Sam and Dean carry you out. I... I'm supposed to choke you out, but... You can fake it, right?"

Daryl nodded. "Come back for you." He promised.

"You will  _not._ Don't come back. Now, play possum." You instructed, hugging the redneck before waving the Winchesters into the room as you pushed back into the hallway. "Dwight! I know you're down there. Come here."

Dwight appeared at the corner and walked toward you. "Yeah."

"Negan said they can take him." You said, as Sam and Dean exited the room, Daryl hanging as dead weight between them. "Please escort them out. If they drop one of his limbs, shoot them both in the leg."

"Where are you goin'?" Dwight asked. 

You started back down the hallway. "I have to go earn my goddamn name back." You knocked and fell to your knee at the door, but it wasn't Negan who opened it. Cheryl, one of his other girls, smirked down at you. In her hand was the compact mirror you'd seen at the corner. She'd been watching, too, and run to tell Negan your indiscretion. Stupid, petty, trying to get you killed...

She brushed past you as she exited the room and Negan waved you in. You stood, closing the door behind you. "So?"

"Dwight is escorting them to the gate, now. It's done."

"It took you a little _longer_ than I expected, Muffy."

With anxiety coursing through you, it seemed best to just tell the truth. Negan could always tell when you were lying, anyway. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry about that. Dean stopped me, a couple times, to try to convince me to- to leave with them, anyway."

"Yet, you are  _still_ here."

"Yes, sir."

"Even after he kissed you?" He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, one booted heel resting on the pallets underneath. 

"I'm not his to kiss. I-I told him he can't do that. I'm not- I'm-I'm yours." 

Negan smiled and waved you closer. You stepped up in front of him, eyes on the floor. "You did a  _damn_ good job, y/n. I'm proud of you. You had the perfect opportunity to fuck me over and you didn't take it."

You sighed in relief and looked up into his eyes. "You had me worried, John. Thought you were going to punish me for what Dean did."

"Am I that unreasonable, y/n? I figured he'd make a move on you, it's what he does. You didn't fall for it." He reached out and ran his hand down your arm. 

"Negan, those jerks from Alexandria just made it out of the gate." Dwight's voice came through a radio on his belt. 

"10-4. Let's go ahead and get outfitted to go have a conversation with Ezekiel." Negan set the radio down and stood. "I'll be back tonight. You gonna be here waiting?"

"Of course." 

"Good girl." He kissed the top of your head and walked out of the room. You sighed and ran your hands down your face. That could've been much worse. 

****************

Sherry found you in the yard near the garden, a beer in your hand. It was getting dark and Negan would roll back in soon and a drink was always good to help those nerves. "Hey."

"Hey."

"So... How are you? Heard there was a problem." Sherry lit up a cigarette and sat next to you. 

"Cheryl wishes. No, no problem. We're great. Everything is... fine. Everything's fine." 

"Those men, the ones who took Daryl, did you know them?"

"Barely. And even so... less than I thought I did." You took a drink of your beer and sighed. "But Daryl's out, and that's the important part."

There was a long moment of silence between you. "He hasn't touched me in a week. The others, longer. He's kinda... obsessed with you."

You looked down, tapping your nail against tab of your can. John told you that you were the only one who he felt he could tell his truth to. Even Sherry thought his name was 'Negan'. No one knew about his sons, no one knew about the monster hunting. No one except you knew about the beautiful Mary Winchester whose death colored everything John ever did. You weren't sure what it was about you that made Negan want to tell you everything, but whatever it was, it also made him spend his free time with _you_ instead of his wife, instead of his other women. Sherry seemed happy about it, even if some of the others weren't. "Well, don't say I never did anything for you."

"Joey said that Negan was teaching you how to shoot." She took a drag off of her cigarette and blew it out of her nose.

"Yep." 

"He gonna be takin' you out with the others?"

You shook your head. "No. It's about defense, not offense. I think he's afraid Cheryl might attack me once she figures out he doesn't give a fuck about her snaggletoothed ass anymore."

"Well... As long as he's spending every free minute on you, I'm happy."

"Can you at least  _try_ to not be so giddy about my fucking captivity?" You groaned.

"It'd be better for you if you stayed with the rest of us. It wouldn't feel so much like captivity."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'd have all the perks of being a kept woman but I'd have to dress like one of you and I'd also have all those eyes on me all the time. Already have enough of those. Thanks." You took another drink of your beer as she crushed her cigarette into the wall of the tool shed.

"You know, some of us are very understanding of your situation. Most of us didn't choose to be in that... harem. We're there by necessity, just like you. We can help each other."

"Says the woman who is literally rejoicing that her husband has been too busy screwing me for the last three weeks to screw her."

"I won't act like I'm unhappy about it. A lot of us needed the break. Hell, everyone did. Even Joey was getting a bit ragged from all the running around with him. Dwight definitely was."

"Good night, Sherry." You dismissed, finishing your beer and crushing the can in your fist. She let out a breath of air and stomped out of the garden.

"You weren't waiting for me." You weren't sure how long it was between Sherry leaving and John showing up, but you didn't even hear the gate open to let him in. 

"I'm so sorry. I-I lost track of time." You sat up straight, crossing your legs and tucking them under your light blue dress.

Negan dropped down to the ground next to you. "You thinkin' 'bout Dean? Or Daryl?"

You shook your head. "No. Just thinking about... life. I get... all... it's overwhelming. I... How connected everything is. Your sons saved my life, just like Daryl did, and the very next day my loyalty to Daryl put me on your radar. Here I am, now, the favorite distraction of a former monster hunter turned semi-sociopathic Savior of the known world, which only needs saving because of your sons."

He leaned over and moved your hair off of your shoulder. "Only semi-sociopathic? You aren't giving me enough credit." Negan sucked your earlobe into his mouth, his hand moving across the front of your dress to pinch your nipple through the thin material. "I'm gonna fuck you right here in the garden. You won't have to think about anything."

"John, please don't make me." You whispered. You turned to him, eyes begging. "Please. I'm not an exhibitionist. I don't want people to see."

"You think I'm asking. No. I'm  _going_ to fuck you out here. So take those panties off."

"But..."

"You made out with my  _son_ this morning, Muffy. You have got to prove to me that you still love me, and you're gonna do that by keeping your mouth shut as I fuck you into the grass."

"You said I wasn't in trouble for that. You-you..."

"I changed my mind." You bit your tongue as you decided to stop arguing. It was futile, anyway. You pulled your dress up and shimmied out of your panties. He snatched them from your hand and shoved them into his jacket pocket. "I'll go fast if you're good. But if you whine, Muffy, make any noises I don't like, I'll drag this out and call for everyone to see."

"Yes, sir." You answered, as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He pulled them down and his cock sprang free, already hard as rock. Your body flushed with heat at the sight of it, a Pavlovian response conditioned over almost a month, expecting the lavishing of attention that normally accompanied that sight. 

Delivering on his promise to go fast, he simply rolled on top of you, spread your legs wide and swivelled his hips forward. You closed your eyes as he rutted on top of you, grunting as he got into a quick rhythm. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you, Negan." You whispered. 

"No. Not 'Negan'. Who do you love?" He grunted into your ear. 

"John. I love you, John... Winchester." 

A thud hit your ears and he suddenly slumped onto you. You opened your eyes in panic and looked up at a dark figure holding a crowbar. "Sorry. You're a bit too Stockholm-y for me right now." A gravelly voice said before a fist came down on you and everything went dark.


	6. Spaghetti and Pemmican

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter. I know it was evil.

You woke up with pain in your head. It took a moment to realize that you weren't in your bed in your room with the sheets for walls. No, you were in your room in Aaron and Eric's house in Alexandria. Michonne stood in the doorway. You sat up, twisting in the sheets, looking for Negan. "Hey, you're okay. Calm down." Michonne rushed to your side. 

"What? I... How am I here?" You asked.

"Dean saved you. Wouldn't believe that you couldn't escape. So, he sent Daryl and Sam on without him, staked out the Sanctuary and waited for an opportunity. He said he had to knock you out, for your safety."

"I can't be here. He-he'll find me here. This is the first place he'll-" Panic caused your voice to raise several octaves. 

Michonne put a strong hand on your shoulder. "We have someone on lookout. If he shows up at the gate, we have somewhere to hide you. Calm down."

You shuddered, a bit of the panic washing away as tears of relief rolled down your cheeks. A crazy bout of laughter followed, shaking your whole body. "It's over. I'm finally... I'm safe."

"Not completely. I do believe you are in more danger _now_ than you were at Negan's Sanctuary. But you are no longer being subjected to a range of tortuous activities by a madman, so I can understand why you would _feel_ safer." Eugene entered the bedroom with a tray carrying a sandwich and a glass of water. 

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see you, Hairdo." You wiped at your eyes as he set the tray on your lap.

"I'm fairly happy that you made it back to Alexandria alive in order to see me. I believe you will have an abundance of knowledge about Negan and his Saviors that will be useful in the fight ahead."

You shook your head. "I don't... Can we talk about that some other time?"

"I was just alluding to the fact that you were with him for almost a month and you likely have more strategically relevant knowledge than Daryl due to your relative freedom of movements."

"I know what you were alluding to, Eugene! I don't wanna talk about it right now!"

Michonne put her hand up. "Why don't we let you eat and rest? We can talk more later, okay?"

You nodded and Eugene just shuffled out of the room. Michonne followed him out with a smile, but as you munched on your peanut butter sandwich, which felt greasy in your mouth, you couldn't help but be worried. Out was good. Away from John was good. Alexandria was not. It was the first place he would look for you. And it would be him. He wouldn't send just Dwight or Joey. _He_ would come for you with an army behind him because that's what he does when someone takes his shit. So, sit and wait to be taken back, or leave before he shows up?

"We figured out a place to hide you. Maggie did. It's not gonna be comfortable, but no one's gonna find you." Aaron was hanging out the window of the other bedroom as you climbed out onto the roof in your blue dress and boots. 

You sighed, unhappy you'd been caught. "I can't let someone get killed because Negan finds me here."

"At least let us show you before you climb over the wall and disappear. You're the expert on hiding, right? Take a look." You climbed back into your window and greeted Aaron with a hug. "We were so ecstatic when Dean carried you in the gate; after we established that you were breathing, I mean." You followed him outside and looked around. It was too green. Too nice. Damn near pristine. * _Near mint condition.*_ His voice flashed in your head, causing an immediate increase in your heart rate and breathing. You took a deep breath and continued following.

Aaron led you to a grate in the grass that you'd never noticed before and pulled it open. "It leads to a sewer from the community that was here before Alexandria. It's not nice, but no one ever sees it. There is a gate under here for access, but there's rotters on the other side of it, so we locked it and no one could sneak up on you down there. One clear access that only a handful of us know about."

You climbed down the ladder into the sewer area. The smell was bad, it _was_ a sewer, but you'd smelled worse. It was dark, but you easily moved in the muck. It was a damn good hiding spot. You turned to Aaron and smiled. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Never thought I'd be getting thanked for a sewer. So... you gonna stay?"

You looked at your sewage-covered boots. "For now." 

**********

As you and Aaron approached your porch, you caught sight of Carl sitting on a chair waiting for you. He was glaring. You took a deep breath and patted Aaron's back as you walked up to the angry teen. "Hi, Carl." He said nothing as you leaned against the porch railing in front of him. He just kept glaring. "You know, I'm kinda taken aback by this attitude, kid. Everyone else has been overly kind. Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't kill him. Daryl said you were with him every day and you didn't kill him."

You looked down, sadly, tears stinging the edges of your eyes. "You're right. I had a hundred chances." You looked up, catching the boy's eye. "And I'm not just talking about hiding a knife under the pillow and hoping I can get him in the postcoital haze. No, he handed me a gun, Carl. He taught me how to shoot; and I thought about it. Of course, I did. Just turn to my right and put a bullet in his head. I'd  _die_ because Negan's men would never let someone survive that, but it'd be  _over._  I thought about it every time he touched me. I thought about Denise and Glenn and Abraham, I thought about you and little Judith, and I couldn't make myself do it. I'd love to say it was cowardice. That it was my own self preservation that kept me from pulling the trigger, because that would make _sense_ but..."

You blinked the tears away, not letting them drop from your eyes. "No matter what he has done to me or to the people I care about... No matter what he's done to a hundred people I've never met... he is still a human being." Carl scoffed. "No. Don't do that. I'm right. He was a good man once, better than you know, and if I snuffed out his chance to find the light again, I'd be damning my  _own_ soul."

"After everything that happened to you, especially over the last 3 weeks, you still believe in God?"

"I believe _more_ now. I have to."

He stood and got close. "That's stupid."

"Probably. But I'm okay with that." You smiled, which seemed to disarm the teen. You ruffled the skirt of your blue dress. "Hey. I'm gonna torch this dress tomorrow. Wanna help put the flame to it?"

He hid his excitement well, but he nodded. "When?"

"Right at sunset. Okay? Neat. Well, I have to go put on some of _my_  clothes and... I have to run down the man who kidnapped me from my kidnapper."

"Gazebo." Carl directed, as he stepped down the porch stairs.

"Gazebo? Really?"

"He likes to read there." He responded, with a shrug.

You shrugged and went inside the house, trading the high heeled boots and blue dress Negan gave you for your own blue jeans, black tank top and Nike sneakers. Your jeans fit snuggly, which didn't seem right since you were certain you had lost weight at the Sanctuary. You did feel more yourself in your own clothes, however, so you were smiling as you exited the house with a glass in one hand and your bottle of scotch in the other. 

You dropped down next to Dean on the bench of the gazebo and offered him a glass of mahogany liquor. "That a peace offering?" He asked, looking up from his book and taking the glass.

"It's a drink. Take it or don't." His eyes slid sideways as you raised the bottle to your mouth and drank a mouthful of the strong stuff. The smell of the Scotch made you gag a bit and the taste made you cringe. 3 weeks previous, the Macallan had been a smooth ambrosia that conjured memories of your father in his den with a book. Now, it tasted like acid in your mouth. You sat for a few long moments, contemplating your wording and forcing more liquor into your system despite the sudden aversion to it. Finally, you cleared your throat. "You knocked me out."

As you finished that sentence with 'Thank you', Dean started his own sentence. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about- wait, what?"

"I woulda gotten us killed. Not because I wanted to stay. Understand that I was desperately wanting to leave. I was just certain that there was no way I _could_. He had me convinced there was no way out. I would've fucked us over because of it. So... thanks."

Dean nodded before taking a drink of the Scotch. "I know how convincing the man can be. No thanks needed."

You scoffed. "You saved my life... twice. What kind of person would I be if I didn't try to thank you for that?"

He smiled, softly. "Tell ya what; you make me some more of that spaghetti and we'll call it even."

"I can do that." You nodded, taking another gag-inducing drink from the bottle. 

"So... No cup?" 

"It's a straight-from-the-bottle kinda life." You bit the inside of your lip and looked over at Dean. "I'm sorry about what I said, about the apocalypse. I was... I was still kinda hoping that John was just crazy, but seeing you... recognizing the hunter traits, knowing that he's your father... I went too far."

"No, you didn't. It _is_ our fault. We were manipulated from both sides, Heaven and Hell, from before we were even born but... We did it. I opened the first seal, Sam opened the last. We let Satan out and we couldn't fix it before Pestilence released his zombie sickness. It's on us."

"Does he still... walk among us?"

"Lucifer? Probably. Angels have to have a vessel to walk the Earth but he's pretty hard to keep without exploding, so he's probably jumping from survivor to survivor, just waitin' for the rest of us to die out."

You leaned your head back, suddenly exhausted. "So, spaghetti tonight?"

"Sure. Me and Sam's place?"

"Yeah." You stood and looked down at him. "Maybe someday you can fill in the blanks that John left about the end of the world."

"Yeah. Maybe tonight. Figure you deserve the whole truth."

You nodded. "I'm gonna go nap."

"Drink some water." He suggested. You waved at him as you stumbled toward the house.

*************

You knocked on the door at 6:30, holding a ceramic casserole dish full of pasta. You hadn't changed your clothes. You felt comfort was more important than aesthetics, now. Dean opened the door, smiling down at you. He was wearing one of Reg's sweaters and a pair of his slacks. "Hey. That smells great." He took the casserole from your hands and moved it to the table. 

"Is Sam eating? I haven't had a chance to apologize to him."

"You don't have to apologize. Really, we understand. Sam, uh, thought it'd be better if we had this dinner and conversation just the two of us. Let me grab plates. Have a seat." You sat at the table and smiled as Dean portioned out pasta with tongs he grabbed from the kitchen. "So, how're you doin', and don't say 'okay'?"

You shook your head, just slightly. "I'm...  _not._ Not even close. I was there for 26 days. 23 of those, he was attached to me at the hip. The only time I ever got to be alone was when he was out doing horrible things to good people. Half the time, I slept in that room he met with you in, because the insomnia took a backseat to physical exhaustion after he was done with me. I wasn't allowed to lament my situation. He doesn't like tears. So, I _feel_ like I should be crying but... except for the moment I realized I was home, I haven't been able to. Spent an hour earlier, drunk and trying to cry, not being able to. I know I'll _be_ okay, but... right now I'm hovering between numb and... terrified. Of course, 'completely disgusted with myself' pops up every once in a while, too." Dean looked at you, confused so you looked at your plate. "He  _made_ me like it. Not emotionally, or mentally. I hated it, wanted to leave every moment I was there, but he's good at what he does. I'm sure it wasn't difficult to work over a body that hadn't been touched in a decade, but... It was just a different kind of torture."

"Shit. I shoulda killed him."

You looked up and shook your head at him. "No. He's your father. No matter what."

"No, he's a monster, just like the things he taught me to kill. In fact, he's _worse_ , because he knows better."

"Dean, stop. It's over. You got me out. How about you tell me a story? How'd you end up in Hell? John said that's where you busted the First Seal."

Dean sighed, twirling his fork on his plate. "To explain that, I have to start at the beginning. You know about the fire, did he tell you  _why_ the yellow-eyed demon was in the nursery?"

"He told me that the demon was feeding Sam his blood."

"Yeah. The, uh, demon was called Azazel. He was Lucifer's second biggest lackey and he fed his blood to a bunch of kids. Any parents that walked in on him ended up dead and burning on the ceiling. Dad walked in right before Mom went up in flame. Couldn't let it go, what he'd seen, so he went on a quest for the truth and he found monsters. Ghosts, ghouls, shifters, vampires, it was all real. We went out on the road, moving from town to town, school to school. We definitely didn't have a  _normal_ upbringing." Dean took a bite of pasta and washed it down with a drink of beer. "Fast forward to 2005. Sam's at Stanford, just finished his Pre-law bachelor's, he hasn't talked to Dad in years and is content to pretend neither of us exist. Wants nothing to do with us. Dad sends me on a hunt in New Orleans; some Freshman nerd using voodoo to put down the cheerleaders at her school. While I'm in Louisiana, Dad goes to California to investigate a stretch of road where men have been disappearing for 20 years. Right as I'm getting done with Sabrina the Teenage Voodoo Priestess, I get a voicemail from Dad. Says something big is happening, he has to figure it out, be careful. 'We're all in danger'. The road Dad was on is only a couple hundred miles from Stanford so I go get Sam, convince him to help me find Dad. While we're out on the hunt, Sam's girlfriend gets killed, just like Mom. Sam watches her go up in flames and flips out, mostly because he had a premonition of her death."

"Like, a real one?" You asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, come to find out that blood Azazel made Sam drink gave him psychic abilities. Him and  _all_ those other kids. All of 'em ended up with these crazy abilities. We found out after we'd been looking for Dad for over a year that there was a whole group of 'em. Azazel was looking for the perfect vessel for Lucifer. He took them to this ghost town and set them against each other, Battle Royale style. Whoever survived was Lucifer's outfit for the end of the world. Sam didn't make it. This soldier, Jake, literally stabbed him in the back." 

  
_"_ What?"

"I couldn't deal. Sam was all I had. I was sure Dad was dead. I hadn't heard from him in 2 years by that point and I knew he'd pissed off Azazel, so I had already put up a tombstone for him in my head. Without Sam, I had no reason to live. So, I cut a deal at a crossroad. They brought him back and I got a year to live. At the end of that year, I got dragged to Hell."

You bit your lip. "What  _was_ the first seal?"

"Yeah, that's the problem with getting the daily news from a psychic. They don't see everything." Dean cleared his throat. "The first seal was broken when a 'righteous Man' shed blood in Hell. They tortured me and tortured me and tortured me and eventually I took an opportunity that was presented. I did some torturing so that they would stop torturing  _me."_  


You nodded. "Well, it's... It was Hell. I'm sure that whoever's blood you shed, they deserved the torture more than you did." You put a forkful of spaghetti in your mouth as he chuckled slightly.

"Damn. Where were you when I got back and could barely look at myself in the mirror?"

"Florida. Being blissfully unaware of the truth of the world."

"Yeah, I have _no_ idea what that feels like." He said, with a smile.

"So... How'd you make it back?" You asked, reaching for your beer.

"An angel. Well, a group of angels, but... His name was Castiel. He was a friend. Went against Heaven to try to help me and Sam end this."

" _Against_ Heaven? Weren't they trying to stop the Apocalypse?" You asked, pushing the plate away. Your stomach was not feeling good about the spaghetti. 

  
_"_ You'd think that. No, actually, they started it. I said we were being manipulated from both sides, right? Heaven was mad because God skipped out on 'em so they started up the end game. They were sure that their archangel, Michael, would win against Lucifer and everything would come up happy for them,  _but_ angels need permission." Dean chuckled. "Sam was on tap for Lucifer and _I_ was supposed to be Michael's. Hell might have thought Sam was the one, but Heaven knew centuries ago that it was me and Sam. They forced my parents to fall in love, made sure we were born, manipulated the demons and every situation of our lives to get us to a place where we would say 'yes' and let Michael and Lucifer destroy half the world fighting with each other. They underestimated our stubborn natures. Lucifer found another vessel. Not the right one so it started to fall apart, but once that one was gone, he just found another. Michael kept after me until the  _day_ the Army bombed New York, Atlanta and the other big cities. After that, never heard from 'em again."

You leaned your head on your fist. "Wow. That's... the angels were the bad guys. I don't even know what to think about that."

"Yeah, and God _still_ hasn't shown up. But, hey, my father showed back up, so I guess anything's possible. You not hungry?" He asked, pointing at your plate. 

You shrugged. "Just not feeling the pasta, you know?" You chuckled as he pulled the plate to him and started to eat. "You know what would be great? An apple. Like, a nice juicy Honeycrisp or Pink Lady. That sounds so much more appetizing."

"Now put the word 'pie' after that and I am all for it." He said around a mouthful of food.

"Oh, my god, pie! I haven't thought about pie in forever. I loved pie. Aw, man, now, I want a strawberry rhubarb with a brown sugar crumble on top. Dammit." 

"That sounds amazing. I miss pie, too."

"Well, I'm terrible at crusts, but if you could find a filling, I could try to make an edible pie-like creation."

"I'll keep an eye out." He winked at you as he took another bite of pasta.

**************

When Sam entered the house, you were sitting on the couch, leaning your head against Dean's shoulder as he sang softly to you. "'You say you feel so empty; that our house just ain't a home. I'm always somewhere else; and you're always there alone. Just a few more hours; and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them callin'; Oh, Beth what can I do?' Hey, Sammy. How was church?"

"Uh, it was good. Gabriel's got a pretty good handle on things. How are you doing, y/n?" 

"Good, just enjoying being serenaded." You sat up straight and stretched a bit. "Almost fell asleep. Should probably get back across the street."

"Can I walk you home?" Dean asked, extending his hand to help you stand.

You smiled and shook your head. "I'm sure I won't get kidnapped again walking across the road. Thanks." You went up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

"You better be here in the morning." Dean said, catching your hand and pressing his lips against the back of your hand. 

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Dean." You pulled your hand back and left the house. You ran across the street, entering the house quickly. Talking about getting taken had put a chill down your spine, even if it was in jest. You closed the door behind and took a deep breath. 

Daryl walked into your vision, wearing a green button-up shirt with no sleeves, his hair clean for the first time in forever. He looked a bit sheepish as he looked at you. "Hey."

"Daryl!" You jumped at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You look better, Dixon. I... Holy shit, man. Did they not feed you? Are you hungry? I've got some red sauce, I can-"

Daryl pulled away. "Nah, Olivia an' Maggie been stuffin' me full o' whatever food they had since Sam and I got here." He looked you up and down. "Those guys are alright."

"Yeah. They are. Especially considering who their father is. I'm so sorry, Daryl."

"What for?"

"I should have gotten you out sooner. I... I should have gotten you out, at all."

"You  _did_. If it weren't for you getting yerself taken by Negan, Sam and Dean would never have found the Sanctuary. I never woulda got out 'cause I wouldn't kneel."

You breathed out a heavy, sad sigh. "Yeah. You went over a month without kneeling and I didn't last a day."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We've  _all_ been bending over for him. Daryl is just the strongest-willed man Negan ever tried to break." Eric said, walking up.

Daryl looked uncomfortable with the praise, so you elected to drop it. You pulled Daryl to the dining room table and sat down with him. "So, I, uh... I think I'm gonna go on a supply run. Negan took everything worth a damn and we're low on food, so I was thinking-"

"You ain't runnin'." Daryl said, simply.

"No, not running. Just a supply run, like Heath and Tara did. But, you know, successful hopefully." You took a deep breath and looked at Eric and Aaron, who were sitting together on the couch. "I just think some time alone would help a lot. I mean, I know that this is the world and people will always be doing bad things to each other, and I used to be okay with that. _I_ wouldn't be that way so it wasn't a big deal, but... I think a couple weeks, just me and the ghouls, would help me get past this shit."

"You gonna tell anyone else?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Gotta take someone to watch yer back."

"No, I don't. The whole point is to be alone to deal with the fact that I was raped every day for 3 fucking weeks."

"The point is to get yerself killed." He accused.

"No, it's not. I haven't survived this long just to off myself. If that was the plan, I'd have slit my wrists day one. It's just... How do I go from  _that_ , fighting through my anger and pain every day in order to survive, to  _this_ , sitting around eating spaghetti and waiting for Negan to show up and take me back?"

"You _don't_. You talk to somebody, tell 'em what happened, and you don't act like everything is okay 'cuz it ain't. Negan ain't okay. Nothin' he does is okay, but it ain't yer fault."

You looked up in shock. "I never said it was. Why would it be?"

"Nothin' that happened was yer fault."

"I _know_ that!" You exclaimed. You ran your hand through your hair and scratched the back of your neck, before repeating, "I know that."

"You didn't do nothing."

"I  _know_!" You yelled, tears rolling down your face. You sobbed, your shoulders rocking as Eric and Aaron rushed into the dining room and wrapped you in their arms. "I shoulda stopped him. I shoulda said 'no', I shoulda let him kill me."

"No. Sweetheart, no." Eric shushed you. 

"I shoulda- I shoulda..." You babbled, turning into Aaron's arms. As Eric rubbed a hand down your back in an attempt to sooth you, Daryl slipped from his chair and left. 

You cried in the arms of your roommates for half an hour before you were finally able to stop. Eric retrieved a glass of water for you and set it on the table. Your breathing hitched every few seconds as you attempted to keep calm. "Is it better now, now that you've cried?" Eric asked.

You shrugged, your eyes stinging. "I don't know." You breathed in deeply, hoping to be better now. Your breath hitched on the exhale but you were able to drink the water. 

"Would it be better if you talked about it?" Aaron moved to sit in the chair next to you and you realized he'd been kneeling the whole time. 

You looked down at the glass. "I woke up naked, chained to the wall in this 5-by-5 room and he... he said I could do things the easy way or the hard way. He said if I fought him he'd starve me and he'd hurt Daryl.  So, I didn't. I didn't fight him, at all."

"Oh, honey. None of us have. He came in, stole half of our beds, all of our guns, no one raised a finger and that was  _after_ he'd already killed Glenn and Abraham. He  _had_ you. You were in the belly of the beast. You are not at fault for doing what you had to. We're all just doing what we have to do to keep our hearts beating." Aaron put a hand on your arm.

"And the hearts of the people we love. Daryl may not be your man but you love him, just the same. Keeping Negan happy is what kept you  _both_ alive. You did the right thing for both of you."

"I know. But it just feels so wrong." You took another drink of water and stood. "I'm gonna go get some sleep. Thanks for everything, guys."

**************

The wooden calendar on the shelf in your room pulled you from your dreamless sleeping. Staring at the numbers filled you with dread. The sun was just coming up as you quietly crossed the road to knock on the door of the Winchesters' house. Sam answered. He didn't look like he'd just woken up. "Is Dean up?" You asked.

Sam nodded, letting you into the house. Dean walked out of the living room, whet stone in hand. "Sup?"

"I'm leaving. A-a supply run." 

"Uh... you  _just_ got back." He started.

"Yeah. But we need stuff. He took a lot of our stuff and we were already running on fumes for food. I'm gonna head South, see if I can't find anything. That way, even if he comes looking for me, I won't be here for him to find."

"Okay, but-"

"I want you to come with me. I'll be safer that way. And it won't be so lonely."

Dean looked to Sam, who nodded slightly. "How long are you planning to be gone?" He asked, eyeing the backpack hanging from your shoulders. 

"At least two weeks, maybe more. Probably closer to a month."

"Um... That's a long time to be gone. You, uh..."

"I'm going. I'd like you with me but, honestly, the pemmican Eugene made will last longer if I go alone."

"Pemmican?"

"Meat, fat and fruit in a survival protein loaf." Sam answered, leaning against the door. 

"That sounds disgusting."

"It was good enough for the Cree, it's good enough for me." You responded, adjusting the straps. "Dean, are you coming? I know it's short notice but I am going crazy here and I have to..."

"Yeah, I'll come. Let me grab a bag. Sammy, you good to stay and play goalie if Dad shows up?" 

"Yeah, of course. You'll be careful, though, right?" Sam looked concerned, but not overly upset. 

"Yeah, of course." Dean winked at you and headed for the stairs. 

"I'll meet you at the gate." You said, slipping out the door. You rushed for the infirmary, grabbing a pharmaceutical text and flipping it open. You confirmed what you were looking for, wrote the name on your wrist and closed the book. 

Dean was waiting for you when you got to the gate, speaking softly to Sasha. She shook her head as you approached. "You can't leave."

"You can't stop me. Look, we'll be back, but Negan will be back, too. It'll be better if I'm out getting supplies when he shows. Maybe I'll find guns. Or food. Just open the gate."

"Fine. Don't die." She said, pulling the lock on the gate and letting the two of you out.

***********

Your camp had no fire. But that made sense. You didn't want anyone to know you were there. You watched Dean toss down a ring of sticks around the perimeter of your camp, then say a few words that sounded like Latin. The circle flashed light then died down. Dean nodded at you. "What was that?" You asked as he moved to sit on the log next to you.

"Magic. Yeah, I know. Not something I ever thought I'd be doing, but white magic has some damn good protections. Anything crosses that line, it's gonna light up like one of those glow worm toys. So, we'll be relatively safe." Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulder in an attempt to share warmth.

"So... how long you think 'til we're out of his range of influence?" You asked, leaning into his embrace.

"Another couple days. Don't worry. We'll get out fine. I'll get us out. So... is that why you were in such a rush to leave, to get away from him?"

You looked at your lap, pulling the sleeve of your coat down over your wrist. "That's part of it. Part of it is a... That idyllic fucking 'Safe Zone'. It's not safe. Nowhere's safe and going back to Alexandria and pretending that I don't know that, it's just too much for me, right now."

"I'll keep you safe." Dean promised, before turning his head and kissing your forehead. 

You sighed, feeling that Dean was trying to bring the two of you back to the place you were a month ago. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I let him ruin me."

Dean pulled away and looked down at you. "You're not ruined. And you didn't _let_ him do shit. He did this to you. Don't think about it any other way."

"Why do you care so much?" 

Dean chuckled. "I, uh, I don't know. It really, um, makes no sense to me that I would leave my brother behind to go on a trek with a woman I haven't known that long, but..." He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Somethin' 'bout you. Your loyalty, your intelligence, your innocence, that you survived on your own wits. I don't know. But I know that when we showed up at Alexandria I was planning on showing you the time of your life that night. One and done, wham-bam, and I think that's what you were expecting, too. But I couldn't do it, not after church and spaghetti and spending time with you. I really don't _know_ why I care so much, I just know that I _do._ "

He turned, throwing his leg over the log to straddle it and wrap his arms around you in a tight hug. "Dad definitely didn't ruin you. He roughed you up, but he didn't wreck you. And that makes me want you even more." He whispered.

You twisted in his arms, getting on your knees on the log and wrapping your arms around his neck, tears coming to your eyes. "Thank you, Dean." 

"I just wanna fix everything he messed up." He brushed his hands along both sides of your head and pushed your hair out of your face. He looked into your eyes for a long moment, green eyes shining in the fading light of sunset, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours, very softly. There was no passion in the kiss, no spontaneity. It was like he was trying to heal you with his lips. They somehow managed to be soft despite the fact that they were chapped. 

You were overwhelmed by the chaste kiss, feeling the care in the simple action. When he pulled back, tears were rolling down your face. "I don't deserve this." You whispered, wiping your hand across your cheeks. 

"Don't say that, y/n. You deserve it. You deserve love and happiness and if I can give you that, please let me." 

You looked up into his eyes. Such an earnest concern in his features. You shook your head and smiled slightly. "How in the world did John end up raising such a wonderful man?"

" _He_ raised a warrior. I became a wonderful man on my own." Dean ran his hand down your arm, then dropped his weight off the log to lay on the ground. He patted the ground next to him. "Come lay down. We'll get some rest and get some more miles between us and Negan tomorrow." You flopped down beside him, smiling as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into a spooning position against him.


	7. Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for talk of abortion.

You woke up and immediately retched, stomach acid rising up in your throat as soon as you moved. You managed to scramble to your knees before a mixture of hydrochloric acid and mostly-dissolved chunks of pemmican ejected from your mouth and painted the forest floor. Dean bolted upright and kneeled beside you. "You okay?"

You gave a weak smile as you wiped your mouth with your sleeve. "Yeah. Guess my stomach had the same opinion of the pemmican that my mouth did."

"Is it food poisoning? Do we need to go back?"

"No!" You said, forcefully. "We _have_ to keep going South."

"Okay. I'll bite. Anywhere specific in mind, 'cause there's thousands of miles of 'South'?"

You stood, fighting the nausea. "North Carolina."

Dean supported you easily as you swallowed several times to try to stave off another attack of illness. "All right. What's in North Carolina?"

"Fort Bragg. Army post. Home of the 82nd Rangers. See, Army guys, especially Rangers-" You leaned down and grabbed your bag, dusting it off before putting it on. "-they have a habit of signing out more ammo than they need for training and walking away with the extra stuff. It's easier to take it home than it is to sign the shit back in. So, even if the armory's been raided, which is likely, maybe we'll find stuff in the housing. Attics and sheds."

"How do you know that?" Dean grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"The guy who took me to my Junior Prom, he joined the Army." You answered, beginning to walk. "He tried for Ranger, but he 'no-go'd on week 3 of swamp school. Which was the stupidest thing because he should've had an advantage. Swamp school was literally right in our backyards. If anyone should have been able to handle swamp humidity, it was him."

"Okay. Kinda passionate on that. So, is that the ex-boyfriend?"

You took a deep breath through your nose as another wave of nausea hit you with gut-wrenching pain. "Um, no. He was just a friend. Neither of us had dates, 'cause no one wanted me back then and he was creepy and kinda gay-ish, so we went together." Dean handed you a bottle of water as you spoke, which you took a sip of. "Thanks. Um, no,  _the_ ex was the Summer between Junior and Senior years. He was rebounding, I had a car and low self-esteem, so it worked out." You groaned.

"What do you mean? What's the self-esteem got to do with it?"

"It was a bad relationship. One of those 'what the fuck was I thinking' things. He was always flirting with other chicks, right in front of me. I changed my hair for him, changed my music, my television show preferences, even my position on the video game console wars, and that was just when were friends. Once we were dating, I spent _all_ of my time and money on him. I wanted to be loved so badly that I just lived for him. It was bad."

"Tell me you came to your senses." Dean asked, pulling a Ziploc bag out of his jacket. In it were an array of multicolored egg shapes that were familiar enough to make you smile. He offered the bag to you after popping a few into his mouth.

You grabbed a few Peanut M&Ms before answering. "Fortunately, I was a dumb 17 year old, but a lucky one. Must've been a damn good rebound because  _he_ rebounded into the arms of a mutual friend right before Senior year started up. They hated each other but stuck it out in a bad relationship for two years before they got caught cheating on each other. Small town drama." You munched on a candy, washing it down with a sip of water. "Where'd the M&Ms come from?"

"Been saving 'em. Found 'em in Memphis, this little corner store that was pretty much destroyed. Went in looking for first aid shit and what do I find? This pretty yellow bag sitting on a display like they were put there just for me."

"Well, thanks for sharing with me." 

"Of course." His smile was brilliant and it would have made everything better if you weren't still fighting nausea. 

**********

The fourth day of your journey found you waking up in a queen size bed in a well-barricaded house on the Southern outskirts of Richmond. You pulled yourself from Dean's arms and tiptoed as quickly as you could to the bathroom. You hugged the bowl and tried not to moan as you painted the porcelain with gastric juices. The nausea was almost ever-present now and it was getting difficult to play it cool around Dean, especially since you were spending every night with him wrapped protectively around you. 

You shut the lid and stood, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself before opening the door. Dean was leaning on the bathroom doorframe, a mixture of concern and irritation on his face as he looked down on you. "Sick again?"

"Yeah." Your response was barely a whisper as you looked at your feet. 

"All right. It's time to tell me, y/n. I've tried to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but now it's too much. What is Mefiprex?" He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at you.

"What?" It was half 'lame attempt to cover' and the other half shock. 

"'What?' We've been sleeping next to each other for almost a week, y/n. You didn't think I'd notice it? The fading word that I can only assume is a medicine written on your wrist. The  _real_ reason we're heading for North Carolina." Dean reached forward and grabbed your wrist, producing the ink in question, almost completely rubbed away.

You couldn't look at him as you pulled your arm back and shoved your hand in your jean pocket. Your heart raced as you decided to come clean. "Right outside of Fort Bragg is Fayetteville, and in Fayetteville there is a Planned Parenthood that I'm hoping didn't get raided too much."

"Planned Parenthood?" He was curious, but you couldn't hear any judgement in his words, and you were definitely looking for it.

You moved to sit on the bed, still looking at your feet. "Fayetteville was one of... one of the few in the area that did abortions on-site. There was a big hullabaloo once because one of the top brass said something about it only being needed because of wives screwing around on their husbands during deployment."

"And Mefiprex?"

"The brand name of the chemical abortion pills. Mifepristone and Misoprostol, put 'em together and you get _Mifeprex_." You corrected.

"That's why the vomit. Morning sickness. He got you pregnant." The whispered words cut you almost like literal knives. It was the first time it had been said aloud. Even though you knew before you decided to leave that it was true, you'd never said it. 

You could feel the disgust on your face. "He fucked me every day for three weeks. Even if I had been lucky that first time... which I probably wasn't, based on the math, but... If I don't get to Fayetteville and find those pills, in 9 months, your little brother or sister is gonna come clawing out of me."

Dean dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his. "No. Stop. Think about this. A baby is a beautiful thing. New life in a world full of dead." The wonder in his voice brought tears to your eyes. He kissed the knuckles on your right hand, then shook his head. "Babies. They're not everyone's cup of tea, especially in the apocalypse, but... If it weren't _his_ baby, would you want it? Have you ever wanted to be a mother?"

You swallowed, then nodded. It _was_  once a dream of yours, before the end, before everything died. "Of course. But it's Negan's. I can't-"

"No, it's not. Not anymore. It's mine." He said, an urgency to his words. "It's my blood and I could raise it as mine. I would protect it, and you, for the rest of my life... if you'd let me." He moved to sit next to you on the bed, hands never leaving yours. "I'll support you, either way. Whatever you actually choose, I'll be there for you, I promise."

Tears spilled down your cheeks. "Dean, that's a huge responsibility. I can't ask that."

"I'm volunteering here. I can't explain it... Y/n, I don't share. I've got walls higher than Alexandria. I am rude and crude and I've _never_ had a successful relationship because I don't trust anyone except Sam. Hell, I don't trust _him_ half the time. I trust you, y/n... I-I think I love you. It kills me that Dad hurt you. If I can make this better... If I can step up, for you and for... for the baby, please let me."

You pulled your hands away and wiped your eyes as you ran for the toilet, retching more stomach acid into the bowl. Dean followed, pulling stray hairs out of your face. "I hope that's not your response to me saying 'I love you', 'cause I'd feel kinda foolish if it is."

You spit into the bowl, trying to rid yourself of the taste, before you crumpled to the floor, leaning back against the wall and looking at Dean with heavy-lidded eyes. "That wasn't an answer. It was just more... shit." You sighed. "I can't. I can't give you a response right now. I'm genuinely touched by that whole... speech in there, but... I'd decided, you know. I came to terms with it and I thought it was the best... Now, I have to think it over again, maybe make a new decision."

"Okay. I understand."

"Either way..." You stood, Dean pulling you to your feet. "We still have to go to Fayetteville. I wasn't lying about the guns. My friend once found a big-ass ammo box full of grenades in the garage at his CO's place. We've come so far, already, we can't pass up the possibility."

"Right. I'm okay with that. I'm in for the long haul." He whispered, his face soft and a world of meaning behind his words.

**********

"So..." You started, as you walked down the interstate, weaving between parked cars, looking in windows to see if there's anything worth taking. "You really don't trust anyone except Sam?"

"And you. I trusted Cas, but he's gone. Same with Bobby, who was more a dad than Dad _ever_ was."

_"_ What happened to them? I mean, Cas was your angel friend, right? It has to be hard to hurt an angel."

"Yeah, he stopped being an angel, though. Heaven packed up, disappeared, once they realized that Lucifer had won. Without that connection to Heaven's glory, he became a regular guy. He stuck it out for a while, traveled with me and Sam until two years ago. He broke his leg. We were running through this town and he tripped over a railing, broke his leg with the bone sticking out. It got infected, he went into shock, and then he was gone."

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, uh, at least he made it a couple years. Bobby was in a wheelchair. He only made it two weeks after the bombings. He ran out of ammo, and Sam and I, we weren't around to save his ass like he'd saved ours so many times." His voice was cold, but a thin film of guilt was present on the words.

You reached out and took his hand, walking between the cars side by side. "My parents both died in Alabama. It was month 4. We found this super small group a bit South of Auburn. It was a tent city in this shopping mall, just 4 families tryin' to stay alive. I convinced my parents to stop, to stay and try to build some community again. We stayed for two weeks, made friends and then... Raiders. They came in during the night, with the full-on raping and pillaging. Dad went down trying to defend this little old lady, Mrs. Rogers, and Mom's throat got slit while she was pushing me into an air vent. It was like a maze in there and they either got tired of chasing me or got lost, because the raiders never found me. I hid for what felt like days and when I came back... they were ghouls. Walkers. All of 'em. Couldn't even... I just left and kept hiding... for years." You shook your head, sadly. "I got them killed. If we'd just kept walking, the raiders never would have gotten to them."

"You didn't make those raiders come in."

"And you didn't make your friend run out of ammo."

"Touche." Dean said, pulling you over to a RV. He pulled his machete and wrenched open the door, before cautiously walking up the stairs and looking around for signs of life or unlife. "It's clear." He called, prompting you to step up into the RV.

You looked around. It was a tight area, but it looked nice. Someone had loved this Mobile home. It must've killed them to leave it behind. "Doesn't look like it's been ransacked."

"Yeah. Might be something good." Dean muttered as he began opening cabinets. You stepped up to him, putting a hand on his bicep. He turned his head and looked down at you, hand still on the cabinet knob. You ducked under his arm and wrapped your arms around him. "Hey. You okay?"

You rested your head on his chest and squeezed tightly. "I think I love you, too. I didn't say it earlier because I didn't want it to seem like a knee-jerk reaction to you saying it first. I've thought about you almost constantly from the moment you saved my life. Everything good that I saw in Negan, the shiny pieces of his personality that I clinged to in order to stay sane at the Sanctuary, they were the things that reminded me of you." You pulled back and stared up into his green eyes. "I've spent my whole life wanting to be wanted, feeling small and ugly and inadequate. You look at me and I don't feel any of that. When you look at me, I don't feel damaged or hurt. When I fall asleep in your arms, I don't have nightmares. I think that's love."

He smiled, a gentle curl of those soft lips. "Wow. Who knew three words could get my heart goin' so fast?"

"Well, technically, it was six." You smirked at him and brought your arms up around his neck. 

He bit his bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah, all right. Here's six words for you. 'You gonna kiss me or not?'."

You smiled, going on your tiptoes and pulling his head down to reach his lips with yours. It was nice. Not the healing kiss he administered on the first night of your journey, this one resembled the one in the hallway outside Daryl's cell. Except, this time, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wasn't panic. You pulled him down more, deepening the kiss as every chemical in your brain screamed for more of the combination of elements that made up Dean Winchester. You pushed your body against his, your hands sweeping down from his neck to his belt. His hands clamped down on your wrists and he pulled back, looking regretful.

"Just- Slow down, okay?" He whispered. 

"What? Are-"

"I just wanted to make sure you, uh, you know what you're doing. You went through something- What if we get started and you freak-"

You scoffed, pulling your hands away. "What, you think we need a safe word?" You snapped, acerbically. 

"Yeah, actually. That sounds good." He said, seriously. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. "I want you. That's obvious, okay, but I know that you are nowhere near  _over_ what Dad did to you. I just don't want to... make things worse. When we do this, it's gotta be safe, soft, perfect. I love you and I won't cause more damage to you. Please, sweetheart, don't-"

You pulled away from him, toward the door. "Don't call me that.  _He_ called me that. When he wasn't calling me 'Muffy' or 'Bitch', it was 'sweetheart'." You leaned against the fridge. "Fine. You're right. I'm not ready. I want to be, but..."

Dean sighed and moved toward you. "Y/n... Princess. Let's just take it slow." He ran his thumb down the side of your face, then smiled. "I'm in love. I am more than willing to continue laying next to you at night with our clothes _on_. It's not that big a sacrifice. Trust me."

"I do. I trust you. Let's just... go through this RV and then we can move on." Dean nodded then turned to start going through the cabinets. You smiled and started pulling drawers. 

"Hey. Ginger's supposed to be good for morning sickness, right?" Dean asked, shaking a box of Ginger Snaps at you. 

"Dramamine's better." You said, holding up a box of motion sickness pills from the drawer. 

"Just had to one-up me, huh? Well, joke's on you 'cause either way I'm just happy to have you stop puking."

"You squeamish, Winchester? 'Cause things are gonna get grosser before this baby is born, and much grosser afterward." You pulled the box open and pushed a little white pill out of the blister pack. 

"Princess, there ain't room for squeamish in this world, and all the things I've seen in my life, shitty diapers will be the least of it." He beamed at you as you managed to swallow the pill without water. 

"You know, I could get used to being called 'princess'."

"Well, Princess, I could get used to sayin' it." He leaned down and pressed his lips to your left cheek, dropping the Ginger Snaps on the counter before moving back to the cabinets.

***********

The two-story house you and Dean stopped at in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina was a small one with just two bedrooms, but it was quaint and had no structural damage. You barricaded the doors and windows, then pulled a couch up in front of the fireplace in the living room and Dean started a fire. "This place is nice. Kinda wouldn't mind staying here for a few days. Or longer." He wrapped his arm around you as you stared at the fire.

"It _is_ nice, but we're on a mission. You know, guns and ammo? The longer we're out here, the less food we'll be able to bring back."

"Yeah, all right." He kissed the top of your head and held you close to him. Your attention stayed on the fire until a low rumble of an engine pulled your attention to the street outside. Dean pulled his pistol and cautiously approached the window nearest the front door. "What the fuck?" He mumbled, tucking his gun in his waistband before pulling the chair that was wedged under the doorknob out of the way and opening the door. 

You moved to his side as he walked into the driveway to greet a classic black muscle car. It was dusty, muddy and bloody and there were dents in the front fender where it had been used to plow through something, but it had Dean looking wistful as he approached and ran his palm over the hood. 

You couldn't help focusing on the driver. Messy brown hair and a full beard did nothing to hide a bright smile and kind blue eyes that reassured you as the man exited the car. "Chuck!" Dean greeted him with a smile. "How the Hell are you alive, man? And more importantly, how the Hell do you have my car?"

"I'm, actually, just as surprised as you that I'm alive." The newcomer looked around, nervously. "Uh, can we go inside? I'd kinda like to stay that way."

Dean nodded, gesturing past you to the open door, looking in the driver's door window. His face fell. "Did you pop my lock pins with a goddamn _screwdriver_?!"

"Uh,  _I_ didn't. Come on, there's a group of zombies gonna turn that corner in two minutes, come on!" Chuck urged, pushing through the doorway and dropping his bag on the chair that had been used as a lock. Dean kissed the car's roof and followed Chuck in, taking you by the hand as he passed. "I'm glad I finally caught up with you. I started toward Kansas when it all went to Hell and then I've been slowly following you across the country." 

You looked between the men. "Dean, who's this?"

"Chuck Shurley. He was a prophet." Dean said, as he shoved the chair back under the doorknob and turned to the two of you.

"I  _was_ an author. I _am_ a prophet." Chuck answered, leaning over the fireplace and rubbing his hands together.

"Wait, you're still getting the visions?" Dean walked up beside you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah. They didn't go away just because the angels tucked tail." He sighed heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just don't have the luxury of drinking myself out of it, anymore. Have to deal with the headaches. It's kinda horrible." He pulled out a notebook and presented it to Dean.

"I saw you guys in Virginia and then, you know, North Carolina. I was closer to here, so..." Dean flipped open the notebook and let the pages fly like a flipbook. His thumb stopped it at a page with a hastily drawn picture of a woman. It looked vaguely like you and under it was your name... with a few letters wrong. On the opposite page were words, also hastily written, in a weird combination of print and cursive. 

_Dean was sure he couldn't remember what love felt like. It'd been years since Lisa, much longer since Cassie. Watching y/n in that church, trying her hardest to pay attention to the sermon, Dean knew she was special. Her floral blouse said she wanted to impress, but the blush on her face when he flirted with her said she wanted much more than_

Dean flipped the book closed and tossed it on the couch. "So, you-"

"Yeah, I know all about it. Uh, I found- where is it?" Chuck dug through his bag, pulling clothes and more notebooks to the side to search for whatever it is he was looking for. Which wasn't the small brown teddy bear he handed you as he continued to dig. "That's for the baby. This is for you." He handed you a box of pills with Zofran ODT on the front. 

"What's this?" 

"Morning sickness pills. It's gonna get worse before it gets better and those will make it easier for you to get shit done. That, and the Impala, of course."

"Uh, what? How do you know-"

"I'm a prophet. I've been seeing Sam and Dean's lives and futures for years, and sometimes I see things that are kinda to do with them, like their girlfriends' lives and futures. I foresaw the baby, the morning sickness. The Dramamine's gonna stop working and after that, it's Zofran or you die of dehydration."

You looked down at the box and caressed the small bear with your fingertips. "Oh, uh, thank you."

"No problem, y/n." Chuck smiled, his teeth shining brightly.

Dean put a hand on your shoulder, possessively. "Okay, two questions. How the hell did you get my car back? And did you know my Dad was alive?"

Chuck looked down and stammered. "Well, I-I, uh, I mean, technically, yes, but- I, uh, I forgot a lot of stuff, man, especially if I didn't write it down."

"You  _forgot_ that my Dad was alive?!"

"Dean." You whispered, setting the medicine on the mantel over the fireplace. You hugged the bear to your chest. "Calm down. What would it have changed? John was actively avoiding you. Even if you had known he was alive, he would never have let you catch up to him. So, tell me about this car."

"Metallicar." Chuck said, zipping his bag up. Dean shot a glare at him, so he shrugged. "That's what the fans called it."

"It was my parents' car, back before everything went upside-down. Dad gave it to me when he bought his truck. It... That car saw me through more shit than... For a long ass time, it was the only reliable thing I had in my life. When it died in Tennessee, I didn't have time to figure out what was wrong with it. Had to keep moving. Which brings me back to; how do you have my car?"

"It was a blown fuse." Chuck answered, sitting on the couch and picking up his notebook. "I didn't fix it. I don't know anything about cars, really. This guy, Antonio, found it, fixed it, shoved a screwdriver in the ignition. I found it in Murfreesboro. I traded him 3 cans of peaches and 8 packs of Morely Menthol 100s for Baby. It was a pretty good deal, but he thought the same, you know 'cause of the gas mileage."

"You've been alone a while, huh?" You asked. He nodded and shrugged. "Yeah. You talk a lot."

"Heh. Sorry."

You sat next to Chuck and smiled, placing the bear on your lap. "So, you were a writer? It seems like you still are, all those notebooks."

"I have to get it down on paper, or it messes with me." He tapped the notebook against his knee and smiled. " _You_ were a pharmaceutical rep, good sister, _great_ daughter, profoundly amazing at traveling solo, but you've fallen pretty easily into the friend/confidante role at Alexandria. I mean, with everybody, even Carl and Daryl. They're both pretty closed off. I'm impressed. You're gonna be a great Mom."

"She hasn't decided. She might not-"

Chuck's eyebrows dropped. "No, she has. You didn't tell him?" 

You shook your head. "I was waiting. It didn't seem like a conversation to have while we were walking, you know?"

"You were gonna tell him tonight. I ruined it. Sorry."

"It's fine, Chuck." You turned to Dean as he squeezed onto the couch between you and Chuck. "I _am_ going to keep it. As long as you still want to-"

"Definitely. No doubt." Dean said, quickly, excitement almost palpable. He chuckled, a huge grin on his face. "We're gonna have a baby."

You snickered. "That's kinda weird since we haven't had sex, yet, but... yeah, we're havin' a baby." 

"Hey, prophet Chuck. You know what we're having?" Dean asked, wrapping his arms around you.

"Other than sex tonight? No. I haven't seen that far ahead."

You chuckled at the slight flush that was just visible on Dean's cheeks in the firelight. You stood, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "The safe word's 'pineapple'." You whispered, before heading for the bathroom.

As you finished in the bathroom, you could hear Dean and Chuck's hushed voices. "What do you think Dad will do if figures out it's his baby?" Dean whispered.

"Uh, I-I really don't know. Negan is such a different character than John was and I didn't spend a lot of time on-"

"Come on, Chuck! You're a prophet! You know shit about us that we hide from _ourselves_! What will my father do if he finds out about the baby?"

"He'll take her. Y/n, the baby, both. He'll lock 'em up and you'll never see her again."

"Yeah." There was silence for a moment. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Damn. Chuck, I don't know what to do here. I promised I'd keep her and the baby safe. Alexandria's safe from the zombies, but it's _not_ safe from Negan, and out here I can't protect her any better than I did Cas. So, what? Do I kill my dad and hope his organization falls apart without him, because that didn't work when L. Ron Hubbard died."

"Dean, I can't tell you what to do. I can't even tell  _me_ what to do. Why do you think I went searching for you? I'm worthless at this kinda thing."

"You don't do anything." You stepped forward. "He's your dad, Dean, and somewhere inside, buried under Negan, John is still in there."

"Are you joking? He's insane. He tortured you."

"But those shiny bits of John are still  _there._ He's just gotta remember himself. You can't kill him."

"He was horrible to you. Why are you defending him?" Dean leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

"Because he wasn't _always_ horrible. Dean, he taught me how to fight, he made sure I was cared for, he only hurt me when I lied or-"

"Listen to yourself! 'He only hurt me when-' John Winchester would never have hurt you, at all. You can't defend him, y/n, and it's kinda unnerving that you're trying to."

You stepped up to the couch and kneeled down in front of him. "I'm not trying to defend him but he's... you can't kill him. He's family. He's your father."

"He was a drill sergeant and a shitty one, at that." Dean shook his head. "That man never gave a single fuck about anything except revenge for my mother's death. He never cared about _me_ , never cared about Sam and he doesn't care about you! Wouldn't care about that baby, either. If I have to kill him to keep you-"

"You won't. Please. You'd never forgive yourself. We can do this without-"

Dean pulled you up into his arms. "If it's the only way, then I will do it. He hasn't been my father in a long time."

You smiled and kissed his cheek. "It won't come to that. I'm sure it won't." You turned to Chuck as you sat on Dean's lap. "You haven't seen any fatal confrontation with John, have you?"

Chuck shook his head. "No. I, uh, haven't seen very far ahead, though. Just to Fort Bragg." 

"Do we find anything there? Like, is it worth it or should we just hop in Baby and head back to Virginia?" Dean held you tightly.

"Baby?" You smirked at him as he shrugged.

"Yeah. There's a couple of houses that have guns. It's worth it." Chuck flipped his notebook open and showed it to you. "Two Browning bolt-actions, a Beretta semi-auto, an Armalite M15, a Ruger, three Tauruses, a couple Smith and Wessons and some Remington shotguns. There's all kinds of ammo, too. There's a Ranger we'll have to talk to, but we'll get it. Don't worry about it."

"Wow. That's a lot of guns. Awesome." You whispered, staring at the list.

"All right, well, you hungry, Chuck? We've got some packets of tuna, some crackers. Don't ask for mayo." Dean said, nudging his backpack with his foot. 

"Hey, thanks." Chuck bent down and grabbed the bag, opening it and pulling out a packet of tuna. "You guys go ahead. I've got to get some more writing done."

"No full-frontal, man."

"No, it's Sam, not you guys."

"What about him?" Dean asked, worried.

"No, nothing bad. He's flirting with that hot Hispanic chick. She's into it."

"Aww, good for Rosita." You said as Dean stood, holding you in his arms like a bride.

"You have fun." Chuck said, scribbling in the notebook.

Dean dropped you on the bed in the downstairs Master bedroom and kicked the door closed. You smiled up at him as he took his jacket off. "You sure you're okay with this? I mean, safe word and all?"

You chuckled, lightly. "I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you, Dean. I love you. We're gonna raise a baby together. I think we deserve some fun." You pulled your t-shirt over your head and reached behind you to unfasten your plain white bra. 

You sat on the bed, exposed, feeling an awkward mix of excited, nervous and terrified. Dean sat on the bed and kicked his boots off into the corner. "You sure-"

"Are _you?_ You seem to be having more problems with this than I am."

"No problems, Princess. Just wanted to be sure." Dean smiled, leaning forward to capture your lips. There was a slight tremble to them, but his tongue quickly distracted you from questioning why. You grabbed his head and deepened the kiss as you lied back, pulling him on top of you.

Dean seemed happy to just keep kissing but you were excited to be running your hands down his sides and across the muscles of his back and shoulders. One hand came up to lightly massage his neck as you pulled away and placed loving kisses down his jawline. You were encouraged by the bulge in his jeans, so you brought your other hand down to rub it lightly through the denim. He moaned into your skin, so you pushed him back, sliding down his body to settle between his legs. You easily pulled down his pants and boxer-briefs, running your right hand appreciatively from base to tip, where your thumb slid lightly over the head. He groaned and you smiled as you took him into your mouth. You were good at this. John taught you proper use of suction, what to do with your hands, when and where to employ tongue and how to use a little teeth to an advantage. Despite your skill, about 5 minutes in, it became obvious that Dean was into it about as much as you feared. As he began to go soft in your mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and said, "Pineapple." through clenched teeth.

As you pulled back and say up, angry and confused, you could only manage two words. "Excuse me?"

He covered his rapidly shrinking glory with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. "I just can't stop thinking about how everything you know about sex came from my Dad forcing himself on you."

"Oh." You breathed.

Remorse painted Dean's eyes as he looked up at you. "I'm so sorry, Princess. I just- gimme a minute. I can-"

"No, it's okay. I understand."

"It's _not_ okay." He growled as he pulled up his boxers and jeans. "And you shouldn't understand. It sucks. I suck. I'm such an asshole."

"It's an unprecedented situation, Dean. It was stupid to believe it could be so easy." You reached down and grabbed your shirt from the floor. You tried to hide your disappointment as you dressed and lied back down. "We'll work on it. We have to get to Bragg tomorrow, so... I'm gonna get some sleep."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You whispered, getting under the comforter and turning on your side. 

***********

Dean closed the bedroom door lightly behind him and stomped into the living room. He was pissed at himself. How could he have let himself fuck this up? He ran his hand down his face and flopped onto the couch next to Chuck. "You know, she's gonna leave." Chuck didn't look up from his writing, scribbling away.

"What? Hey, what are you talking about?"

Chuck looked up, setting his pen in his book and closing it. He took his reading glasses off and hung them on the collar of his shirt. "She thinks she's ruined. You _say_ she isn't, but you couldn't even enjoy an expertly performed blowjob without freaking out about _her_ rape. She's going to run." Dean stood, but Chuck shook his head. "She's not thinking about it, yet. Don't put the idea in her head."

Dean ran his hand through his hair and sat back down. "So, when's this idea gonna hit her?" 

"I'm not sure. After we find the guns, 'cause she takes a pistol and one of the shotguns when she runs."

"I can't let her leave, Chuck. How do I fix this?"

Chuck sighed. "You can't. I mean, you can't make your body... you know." He shook his head and pulled his glasses off of his shirt. "We can just try to make sure we get her back, after." 

"I don't like that word, 'try'." He reached over to grab the notebook from Chuck's lap. "Can't talk her into staying without giving her the idea to run in the first place. I'm getting tired of all this Catch-22 bullshit."

"Sorry, Dean. I mean, as far as I can see, she doesn't get hurt when she leaves. If that helps, at all."

"Fuck, man. I just..." He flipped the book open, landing conveniently on the passage about drinking with her on Aaron and Eric's couch. "She deserves better than this."

"Yeah, but... what can you do?"

"Not a damn thing." Dean said, resigned. He read through the scene, wishing again that he'd carpe'd that first night. He smiled at her nervous thoughts, then shut the book. "I fucked this up."

"Nah. God did." Chuck muttered.

Dean handed the book back and stood. "I'm gonna go... hold her. Hope I can put enough love into a hug to keep her around."

"I'll let you know if I have any new visions." Chuck said, lying down on the couch.


	8. It's in the Blood

You woke up and pulled yourself from Dean's arms, but this time, it wasn't to get sick. You looked at him, peacefully asleep. The look on his face was so much different than the one he'd worn several hours before. You felt forlorn and you were certain that it wasn't just hormones. You turned and snuck out of the bedroom, walking lightly into the living room. Chuck was laid out on the couch, his notebook on the floor in front of him. You bent down and picked it up, quietly flipping through it.

_Dean was used to feeling like a failure; it was ever present since he was a child and had only grown since his time in Hell. This failure, however, was one he couldn't forgive himself for. Talking to y/n at the Sanctuary, Dean could tell she was broken. The way she'd flinched away from him when he kissed her. The way she'd been unable to meet his eyes. The fear of losing her name, fear of Lucille. Fear of John Winchester, his father. More than that, a Stockholm Syndrome-esque dependence on keeping in his good graces. When he sent Sam and Daryl ahead, he wasn't sure how he would get her out, but he knew that he had to do it. Any longer in that place was going to leave her a complete husk._ You flipped a few more pages. _She didn't want to eat. That was a bad sign, and behind the smile she gave him, there was so much sadness. He knew that look; he'd worn it. She wasn't sure how to go from the fight to the tentative peace. She'd spent a month fighting, taking care with every word and expression so that she wouldn't offend John and now that she could do whatever, look however she wanted, she couldn't bring herself to_ You shut the notebook. Reading about yourself was creepy... but... maybe Chuck could shed a little light on what happened last night.

_Dean wanted her, there was no doubt about that. Her smile, her hair, the way she smelled, everything about y/n was everything Dean ever wanted. But he couldn't ignore the damage she wore. He was wary to get in bed with her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her more. She was amazing, but as she tried to get him revved up and he tried to get his head in the game, Dean couldn't stop thinking about the damage John had done. How he'd taken a blank slate and turned her into the enthusiastic woman giving him head. He'd been looking forward to teaching her, but now, she was already full of knowledge. Knowledge that had been forced upon her. She was forever going to be John's_    _  
_

You shut the book again, heart hurting as you came to the conclusion you'd been dancing around. Dean might love you, or want to love you, but he'd never be able to look past what happened at the Sanctuary. You placed the book on the back of the couch and walked to the window. There was a ghoul in the yard, but it didn't notice you in the house. You stared out the window, watching it shuffle around aimlessly. You felt a bit like it, lost and aimless, plugging through life when you really shouldn't be moving anymore. You weren't entirely sure what you were, but you knew that you weren't human as you recognized being human to be. You were something less than and that's exactly how Dean saw you. Exactly how everyone was going to see you for the rest of your life. Less than.

The sun was peeking over the tops of the houses on the East side of the street when the door to the bedroom opened and Dean rushed out, looking worried. When he saw you by the window, he breathed a sigh of relief that woke Chuck. "I woke up and you were gone." He said, putting one hand on his hip and the other  up to rub his eyes.

"Just... watching the show. This zombie got his foot caught in a hole in the front lawn. He fell, started trying to crawl away. He's been stuck there for two hours."

"You've been watching a zombie try to crawl for two hours?" Dean asked, walking to the window and putting a hand on your shoulder. 

"I didn't have anything else to do."

"You shoulda come and woke me up so you wouldn't have to be awake alone." 

You smiled slightly as you thought about all the time you'd spent alone between your parents' deaths and your rescue in West Virginia. "I'm fine with being alone for a while, Dean. Besides, you needed the sleep. You've got to get a pregnant woman and a prophet to Fayetteville."

"Bragg, right? Not Fayetteville, just Bragg. We don't have to go to Fayetteville." Dean's words took a concerned edge, but you just smiled.

"Right. So used to sayin' it the other way in my head. Right. Just Bragg. Get those guns."

"Right, well, we can get there pretty fast in the Impala. She's a godsend. Thanks for bringing her, Chuck."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Chuck said, grabbing his notebook from the back of the couch. "I know how important it is. So, breakfast, then Fort Bragg?"

"Yeah. Prunes or banana chips?" Dean asked, pulling two bags out of his backpack and presenting them to Chuck.

"Bananas, definitely. You don't want to have prunes in me."

"I'll take the prunes." You offered. Dean handed you the bag and dug into the banana chips before handing them to Chuck.

"I'll never understand how you survive on such sparse food. I mean, I understood the functional alcoholism, but this? How you and Sam could hit a hunt and go out into the woods with nothing except a bag of M&Ms... Definitely prepared you for the apocalypse. Shoulda done a bit of preparation, myself."

"Speaking of, how have you survived so damn long? No offense." 

"Oh, none taken. The gift of prophecy. It's come in handy."

"What, you see  _your_ future now, too?" Dean asked as you quietly munched on a prune.

"Yeah. I begged for that before the angels ran away. I knew that, without an archangel on my shoulder, I'd be dead in no time so I asked to see my own future so I could see any dangers so I could avoid or hide from them."

"I didn't think the angels gave you your visions. Thought those came straight from God."

"Well, I guess the angels put in a good word with the Big Man, 'cause I got my visions."

"And you found the car through your visions? Your visions extend to the car?" You asked. 

"Oh yeah. That car is super important."

"Damn straight." Dean winked at you.

****************

The car smelled like dried blood, whiskey and stale cigarettes. Dean muttered something about people smoking in his Baby, but moved past it when you reminded him that the someone who was smoking was probably the same someone who fixed her. The trip to Bragg was uneventful, only requiring one stop to push cars out of the way on SR-95. A wall of cars barricaded the entrance to Fort Bragg, and behind that stood a blockade made of three shipping containers. "I guess this is where we get out and walk, yeah?"

Chuck nodded from the backseat. "We go on foot from here, head toward the enlisted housing, which is... everywhere, but mostly... Northeast."

You smiled and pulled your bag from the floorboard in front of you. "Let's go."

You walked in relative silence, Dean casting worried glances at you every few minutes and the bearded prophet keeping his head down, seemingly lost in thought. You couldn't help thinking of the child growing inside of you and how it would always be  _Negan's_. Dean wanted to raise it, it was his blood, but how could you possibly believe that Dean could love the product of his father's horrid actions when he couldn't even look past them for you?

You followed a street down until you found a row of duplex houses. The haul from those houses was impressive, two Taurus pistols and the Ruger, and two Remington shotguns. You placed the pistols into your backpack and tucked the shotgun into the mesh front pocket. Dean looked worried again. "Maybe you should let me carry the guns."

"Dean. Come on. It's fine. You've got a full bag." You responded, waving him off.

When the Ranger walked out, rifle raised at your heads, you jumped behind a parked car while Dean and Chuck ran for a carport that was overturned in a yard. As they shouted across the street to the man who identified himself as Sergeant First Class Allen, you shook your head. This wasn't worth it. None of it. You looked at Dean, trying to convince this ex-Army with an automated rifle that you weren't a threat and all you could think was ' _It was all so much easier when I was alone. Avoid human contact, avoid the ghouls; just me, moving along on my own.'_ Your thoughts moved, disdainfully, to the baby as the word 'Alone' repeated itself in your head; and with that refrain you slipped away. Dean was too busy with the Ranger to notice, the Ranger too busy with him. It didn't take much to get away and once you were certain you were out of sight, you took off running. 

You left the post through the South gate. As you walked past the Impala, you stopped. Chuck's notebook was in the backseat, his pen sitting on top. You pulled a piece of paper from the back of the notebook and scribbled out a note, tucking it under the windshield before resuming your run toward town. You didn't know where the clinic was, but you'd read that it was less than 5 miles from the gate.

As you walked past a credit union, checking for ghouls and any people who might be hiding there, you saw nothing. "Someone looks lost." You twisted around, grabbing for the knife clipped onto your waistband. A short Latina was leaning against the front door of the credit union, the doors you'd just looked through less than a minute before. "Oh, sweetheart. That's not gonna help you much." Being called 'sweetheart' made you cringe. The knife flew from your hand and stuck into the brick of the credit union.

"What the-" You looked nervously from the woman to the knife and back.

"Now, where are you going all by your lonesome?" The woman pushed away from the building and you noticed that she was pristinely clean, no dirt or blood on her. "You aren't looking for Planned Parenthood by any chance, are you?" 

"How-"

"Yeah, I'm going to cut to the chase, sweetheart, because I'm not _really_ the patient type. My name's Lucifer." You gasped, taking a step backwards. "Oh, come on. Don't run. You won't get anywhere."

"Wha-"

"Look, I'm gonna break this down for you, real simple. I _need_ that baby." Lucifer pointed at your belly. "It's a Winchester. Not my perfect fit, but give it a bit of blood from my token demon pet and it'll fit me just fine."

"You want my baby as a vessel?"

"Well, not  _as_ a baby. I'd have to jump its growth a bit, but... What do you care? You're about to kill it. You can't even kill the zombies, but you're going to kill that perfectly healthy human baby growing inside of you? Have you thought that through? I get the feeling it might break you."

"I'm already broken. I... If you get a vessel, what happens?" 

"I stop exploding survivors." Lucifer smirked. "Look around, Sweetheart, I've won. Thing is, I need a permanent vessel and you've got a customizable one that you don't _even want_. You give me that baby, I have a single vessel to play in, I go back to my garden."

"And you, what, you leave us alone?"

"You're doing more damage to each other than my zombies or I ever will again. It's, honestly, a  _lot_ of fun to watch. I mean, watching the dear sainted John Winchester slowly devolve into the monster Negan..." Lucifer giggled. "It's beautiful."

"What if... What if I say 'no'?"

"That'd be a bad idea, y/n. We can do this nicely. Ask around, I can be reasonable, but if you try to deprive me of what I need, I'll be less than. You're coming with me, y/n, so I can make sure that baby comes out perfect."

"I don't have a say?"

"No." Lucifer looked amused as they reached out and grabbed your shoulder. You were suddenly in a cell. As you swayed with a disoriented dizziness, you sat down. The angel was gone when you looked up from the stiff metal cot you sat on. You pulled your backpack off and started to empty it out onto the bed, gathering your guns and sparse ammo.

"Don't bother, darling." A rough British voice came from the cell to your right. "Those guns won't do a bloody thing to 'im an' you aren't escaping Alcatraz with tuna packets."

You rushed to the bars, where a hand was holding a mirror to see into your cell. "Who are you?"

"Just a demon who backed the wrong horse. Never shoulda trusted the Winchesters. Seems you made a similar mistake. Which one's the father?" You were silent, the reality of being teleported to San Fran-fucking-cisco and being put into a jail cell next to a demon, a demon who 'backed' Dean and Sam in the apocalypse, it was overwhelming. "Well, you don't look like Dean's type, not enough 'skank' on you. You look bookish, so congrats are in order to Sam?"

You closed your eyes, leaning against the wall of your cell. Dean liked skanks? "It's John's." You said, quietly.

"Oh, you mean Negan's?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Lucifer likes to keep an eye on the Winchesters just in case one of them takes a girl for a ride bareback and creates a new vessel for him. He can't enter Negan's Sanctuary because Papa Winchester put up some Enochian warding. I can slip in and out unnoticed. He's not prepared for demons, anymore. It's a perk of being the last of my kind." You rubbed the back of your neck, wondering how you managed to get yourself mixed up in all this. "You don't seem the type to cream over a silver fox. Did he rape you?"

"I'm sorry... last demon on Earth, but... I'm not comfortable-"

"Yeah, of course he did. Negan takes what he wants." The mirror disappeared. "I'm Crowley. You?"

"Wishing for the sweet release of death." You answered, sadly.

"I've been there for years, pet."

*********************

Dean barely had the Impala in 'Park' outside the gate of Alexandria before he'd jumped out. "Where's my brother, Hairdo?"

"I can get him. Who's in the car with you?"

"He's Chuck. He's a friend from before the end of the world. Go get Sam." As Eugene disappeared from the gate, Dean drummed his fingers against the top of the car.

"Dean, you need to calm-" Chuck started.

"You tell me to calm down, I'm gonna punch you in your mouth." Dean leaned down to look at the passenger. " _You_ told me you didn't see her in danger when she ran. You told me not to worry. Lucifer isn't a danger?!" He whispered, furiously.

"Dean, you know... technically, she's safer at Alcatraz than anywhere else. There aren't any zombies there."

"No, there's just _Satan_." Dean stood straight as the gate opened and Sam walked out, Rosita close behind. His hair was short, just above his ears. Dean couldn't help but think of how his brother looked when Dean got out of Hell.

"Chuck! I can't believe you're alive. And how did you guys-"

"Where's y/n?" Rosita interjected.

"Yeah, about that. Sam, can I talk to-"

"Is she dead? Did Negan take her again? Where the fuck is she?" Rosita demanded, hands on her hips.

Dean rolled his eyes. "She pulled a runner in North Carolina. Now, can I have a minute with my brother, please?"

"Why would she do that? She loved it here."

"Probably because she's pregnant. Yeah, and it's not mine." Dean shut the driver's side door as Chuck got out of the passenger side of the Impala. "I did everything right when she told me. I confessed my feelings for her, told her I'd support her no matter what she decided and I'd raise it as my own if she wanted to keep it. I helped her with it, and then, I did everything wrong. She took me to bed and I froze."

" _You_... froze?" Sam asked, pointedly casting his glance downward.

"Yeah. I _froze_. I couldn't get the image of her and Negan out of my head." Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

"Wait, so she was getting past her rape with you and you couldn't get it up?" Rosita accused.

"Like I said, I fucked up. Can I talk to my damn brother now?!" Dean snapped.

"You are here, why? Why didn't you find her in North Carolina?"

"I need Sam."

Sam turned to Rosita, smiling tightly. "Let me talk to him. Why don't you go ahead and tell Rick and Michonne that y/n ran away and we're gonna go track her down?" The men watched her walk away before Sam turned to his brother. "She's right. You wasted hours coming back here. Why didn't you stay in North Carolina and find her?"

Dean made sure she was out of earshot before answering. "She's not _in_ North Carolina, anymore."

"What?"

"Yeah, she was gone about an hour before Lucifer popped up and beamed her to San Francisco Bay."

"What does he want with her?"

"The baby." Chuck answered, leaning over the top of the car. "It's in the blood, remember? The baby is going to have the same thing in his blood that you and Sam do."

"Lucifer is going to have a baby as a vessel?" Sam asked, rubbing his hand over his brow.

"No, he'd have to wait until it's grown, but...Lucifer has access to enochian magic, so he might be able to grow the kid, you know... supernaturally." Chuck responded.

"Shit! So, we gotta go to California? Do you know how long that's gonna take?"

"We got Baby back. It'll take a fraction of the time."

"Yeah, I mean, it's cool that you got the car and Chuck, but that's a cross-country trip, to San Francisco to rescue a chick we, literally, _just_ rescued a month ago. Dean, is she wor-"

"Don't finish that sentence. The only reason Lucifer even took her is because Dad raped her! If anyone was worth saving again, it's her! Not to mention the fact that I'm in love with her and I'm the reason she ran away!" 

Sam looked between the men. They were going to California and he didn't really have any say in it. "Okay. Let me go grab a bag. You guys didn't happen to find any supplies before y/n ran away, did you?"

"Yeah, but we're gonna need 'em on the trip. Come on, move your ass." Dean said, getting back into the Impala.

**********************

Daryl had tried to insist on coming with them, but Dean had pushed Sam into the car and peeled out of the area. They didn't need any civilians along for the ride. As they headed out of the Alexandria area, a barricade of zombies was blocking across the road. Dean got out of the car, machete in hand, intent on cutting down the group before the Saviors who set it up came out of the woodwork. "Well, I knew that car looked familiar."

Dean groaned, waving at Sam to get out of the car, too. "Goddamn it, Dad, I don't have time for your bullshit, right now!" He called out.

John stepped out from the woodline, Lucille in hand, Dwight and two other Saviors flanking him. "Well, then we can cut to the end and you can tell me where my girl y/n is, while kneeling down and apologizing for the bump on my head when you took her."

"Yeah, that's not happenin'... for so many reasons. Most pressingly, because we don't _have_ her."

"You what?" John smiled. "You really expect me to believe that you're not the one who broke into my Sanctuary and stole my favorite playtoy?"

Dean chuckled. "No, I took her. Bashed your head in with a crowbar, left you in your garden with your dick out and took her back to Alexandria, but she didn't stay. She made it less than two days before she had to leave." He looked at the other Saviors. "How much do your little lackeys know about you, Dad? How much do you _want_ them to know about you?"

John smiled, then handed Lucille to Dwight. "Take Lucille to the truck. I'll meet you there in five. If I'm not there in five minutes, go to Alexandria and kill Rick and Daryl."

"Yes, sir." Dwight walked away, the others following.

John stepped toward Sam and Dean. "Okay. Where is she?"

"She's gone. Lucifer has her." Sam answered.

"You're fucking with me. You're lying." When his sons didn't answer, he blinked at them. "You're not lying?"

"No. Lucifer grabbed her this morning."

"Why would he- What, because she wants to be yours? Lucifer thinks he can use her as a bargaining chip?" His tone was suddenly very different. His demeanor had quickly fallen from 'Psychopath Negan' to 'John Winchester'.

It threw Sam, who pushed his hair out of his face and looked at Dean who shook his head, almost violently. Sam ignored him. "Lucifer gave up on me. He's been looking for other vessels."

"Sam." Dean growled out a warning.

"He needs a vessel that can hold an archangel. One he can feed demon blood to and-"

"Sam!" Dean backhanded him in the chest.

"-it's gotta have Winchester blood." Sam finished, looking annoyed with Dean.

The wheels turned quickly in John's head. "She's pregnant."

"It's not yours." Dean lied. "It's mine."

"Bullshit, Dean." A bit of Negan snuck back into John's eyes as he smiled. "You didn't touch her. Not before _I_ did, anyway. No one had tasted her in a decade before me, and I enjoyed her extensively. She's going to give you a little brother or sister and Lucifer wants that baby to be his new body."

"It's disgusting to hear you talk about her like that." Dean groaned.

"Dean... What's disgusting about that? Hearing your old dad talk about having sex with a woman half his age? Or are you just jealous I got-" Dean swung his right fist at John's face, but the older man ducked backward. "Oh, I know what it is. You think I raped her." John grabbed Dean's fist and pulled it past his head, stepping into the punch and driving his fist into his son's gut. "I used scare tactics, won't lie. Got her complacent by threatening our friend, Daryl, and I put a couple bruises on her to show her who was in charge, but she _chose_ to kneel. She chose to get in my bed, son, and she liked what I did there." He punched Dean in the stomach again before stepping away. "That's _my_ girl, boys. She's my favorite and I've been missing her for a damn month, now. So, we're gonna go save her from the Devil and then, she's comin' home with me. Questions?"

Dean coughed, glaring at John as he stood straight. "She won't come with you. She doesn't want to be with you. She _loves_ me."

"That's not as important as you might think. She doesn't have to love me. Motherhood has a tendency to soften a woman, and I can keep that baby safe from Lucifer in ways that _you_ can't." John walked into the woods. "Let me grab my things out of the truck, then we can be on our way." He called.

Dean turned to Sam. "We can't take him with us!"

"Dean, you aren't thinking straight. I get it, okay, he's done some horrible stuff to y/n and you think you're in love with her, but..."

"I don't _think_ I'm in-"

"But Dad is one of the best hunters in history, Dean. He knows Enochian warding, he's arguably more badass now than he was when we were growing up and we're the assholes who couldn't beat Lucifer 6 years ago."

"We can't let him come with us. We can do it our damn selves."

"Except we do. We take him." Chuck called out the window.

"What?" Dean shouted, turning to the car. "And why didn't you mention this before?"

"I knew you'd be mad."

"If anybody can help us get her back, Dean, it's Dad. It's kinda creepy, but he's got an interest in saving her, too."

Dean looked nauseated as he stomped back to the car. "Make room in the back, Chuck. He ain't getting shotgun." He wrenched the door driver's door open and threw his weight down behind the steering wheel as Chuck pulled the bags closer to him to allow enough room for John in the backseat.

"I _should_ make him let me drive." John exited the woods, bag on his back, AK-47 slung across it.

"Dad." Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "You can stop now. Don't antagonize him. Be the man Mom would want you to be."

"You don't use your mother against me, Sammy, and you don't get to try to tell me how to act." John walked up to the driver's window and knocked on it. "Gimme the keys to the trunk."

"Why don't you just hold it in your lap?" Dean growled. John stared down at him, dark hazel eyes showing amusement, but no sign of backing off. Dean rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the car and walked to the trunk, pulling it open. John dropped his bag in the trunk and took the AK-47 with him as he sat in the backseat.

Chuck looked down at his feet, nervously. "I'm, uh, Chuck." He said, timidly.

"Yeah. Prophet. Not what I expected. I was thinking more Moses." John said, dismissively. Chuck caressed his beard, then looked out the window as Dean revved the engine and plowed through the zombie barricade.

***********************

You marked the wall with your knife for the eighth morning and stretched. The metal bed was killing your back and neck. "Good morning, Crowley." You said as you folded your bed up against the wall.

"Good morning, darling. How'd you sleep?"

"No worse than any other night in the past week. Did they sound bad?"

"Your moans last night seemed less painful and more fun. And the smell you gave off was a bit intoxicating. Haven't smelled that in years."

You turned around, your back to the bars, and grabbed onto the metal. You let your body drop, stretching your back muscles and arms. You couldn't remember having any sort of dream like that, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Your hormones had started to go crazy. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No chance that dream was about me, was it?"

You laughed. "It'd be kinda hard to have a wet dream about a voice on the other side of a concrete wall." He had his mirror, but you didn't have any way to see him.

"Well, a demon can dream." You smiled. With no one else to talk to, you'd spent quite a bit of the last week deep in conversation with the demon. He'd regaled you with his impressions of the end of the world, told you everything about Azazel and Lilith and Lucifer. He'd told you about the decades of manipulation that Hell put Sam through and the way Crowley had tried to help Dean and Sam win. It didn't work and Crowley got imprisoned and enslaved for his betrayal. Lucifer killed off every other demon, leaving only Crowley as toy to torture and a source of demon blood to metamorphose any Winchester he could get his hands on. "Do you think they'll come for you?"

You sighed, shaking your head as you let go of the bars and sat on the floor, hooking your feet under the cell door. "No. The note I wrote Dean... I don't think so. The prophet might've seen me get taken, but I told Dean that I was done. I told him I was better off alone. I, literally, ran away from him. I don't think he's coming for me."

"What about John? He seemed pretty obsessed with you."

"He won't think to look for me all the way out here. He'll assume I'm hiding in Virginia." You started doing sit-ups, punching at an imaginary target as you came up for each rep. "No, I think... I'm your neighbor... until Lucifer... figures out how to... get this baby... out of me and then... I think I'm dead."

"Well, that'll be a travesty, pet." The mirror appeared so that Crowley could watch you exercise. "I will miss the company."

"You'll miss the show." Lucifer suddenly appeared outside of your cell, and the mirror was quickly pulled away. Lucifer smiled down at you as you scrambled away from the door and tossed a paper bag between the bars. "Chow time."

You grabbed the bag out of the air and set it aside. You stood, defiantly staring at the angel wearing the small woman whose skin had begun to blister. He wouldn't hurt you, not until he got the baby, so you weren't going to shrink away from him anymore. "Good news, sweetheart. I've got my ingredients. We can get that baby out of you in a couple hours."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, accompanying the realizations that you were going to be in childbirth in just a few hours and that you would be dead soon after. You glared, your lips curling into a scowl. "I hope it's obstinate, stubborn, and self-assured... I hope it comes out just like John. Then, it'll never give you what you want."

Lucifer shook his head. "So ready to die that you're picking fights?"

"Lucifer, she doesn't need to die. You can-" Crowley started.

"Hey! We're here for the tour!" Sam's voice was barely audible, but you swelled with hope at the sound.

"Anybody runnin' this museum?" Dean shouted.

A tear escaped your eye as Lucifer disappeared. "Guess a rescue _was_ in order." Crowley said, quietly.

"Keep quiet and move fast, we might just get off the Rock before Lucifer realizes that they're just a distraction." John's voice was hushed as he ran to your cell door and inserted a key into the lock.

"John! You're working with Sam and Dean?" You whispered, looking around for any sign of Lucifer.

"Well, I guess it took a damsel in distress and a week in a car together to build a bridge for us to get over it." The lock clicked and he opened the door.

You stepped out, looking into the neighboring cell to get your first look at Crowley. He was wearing a pair of grey sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt. A thick beard graced his face, his eyes silently begging for help. You looked from Crowley to John. "You have to open Crowley's, too. He's only in here because he tried to help Sam and Dean in the apocalypse."

"If you open the door, it'll bypass the bloody wards. I can help you off the island." Crowley offered. John looked at you, then sighed and unlocked the other cell. He turned to you as Crowley left the cell, slipping a silver necklace over your head. The pendant flashed yellow. "That's a neat little bit of bling. Warding?"

"Yeah."

"Where'd you get it?" You asked, twirling it between your fingers.

"I got a storage locker full of neat shit."

You turned to Crowley. "Do you have somewhere you can go?"

"Without other demons to track me down, Lucifer would have to do it himself. I can hide from him. What about you? Back to Virginia?"

"I don't know, but seriously. Take care of yourself, Crowley."

"Of course. No one else will." Crowley winked at you before disappearing.

********************

As you stood on the dock, John next to you and Chuck scribbling furiously in his notebook in the car, you watched Dean and Sam row across the Bay. "Do you hate me?" John asked, his voice sounding vulnerable.

You took a deep breath. "It's like you're two different people. There's John, who's sweet and caring, actually cares about _helping_ his people. John, who taught me how to shoot because he wanted me to know how to protect myself and found out my favorite candy so he could send Dwight out to scavenge some up for me." You looked up at him. "And then, there's Negan, who called me 'Muffy' and 'Bitch'. Negan, who loved to see me uncomfortable or in pain; who brought a bat that he'd used to kill two of my friends into our bed..."

Tears started streaming down your cheeks as you swallowed. "...and laughed as he fucked me with the handle. No, John, I don't hate you, but I _loathe_ Negan. I have nightmares about him. I was going to abort this baby because it's his."

John nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit nuts, I know. I was horrible to you so that I'd have less vulnerability."

"What?"

"I couldn't let my guys see me walking around all lovesick, y/n. You show weakness to a guy like Dwight and he'll seize on it. Especially since I stole his wife. The guys might've hurt you just for spite. A lot of their wives left them so that they wouldn't have to work for points, anymore."

"So, _you_ tortured me so that your _men_ wouldn't torture me?"

"There are lines I wouldn't cross, didn't cross. Lines they would race over with you, if they knew I was in love."

"Please keep in mind, as Hunters, we're professional liars. Don't buy his bullshit."

You turned, jumping into Dean's arms. "Dean! How'd you guys get away?!"

"Used the last of our Holy Oil. It won't hold him for long, though, so let's move." Dean opened the passenger door for you and John got in behind you. You were sandwiched between Dean and John in the front seat as Chuck and Sam sat in the back. The Impala sped away from the dock. You breathed a small sigh of relief as you saw Crowley standing on the side of the road, fully shaved and wearing a bespoke black suit. "Was that Crowley?" Dean asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

"Yeah." You leaned your head against Dean's shoulder and closed your eyes. A hand rested on your right thigh and you didn't need to open your eyes to know that it was John's. You swallowed, deciding against saying something. You snuggled close to Dean and took a deep breath. "I'm exhausted."

"Catch some Z's. We'll head toward Canada, then back toward Virginia." Dean instructed.

"M'kay." You said, sleepily.


	9. Heartburn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to get this updated. I knew where I wanted to go with this chapter but I had trouble getting there. Thanks, again, for all the kudos and comments!

You sat in the Impala, staring out the back window at nothing. Dean had parked in an underground garage in Salt Lake City that Chuck led him to, promising safety for the night. Of course, nothing was safe without precautions, so the men had left you in the car as they swept the place for the undead and set up traps and a much larger version of the 'glowing sticks' magic circle. You were pretty sure, though, that it wouldn't make any difference if Lucifer found you. Dean opened the front door of the Impala and slid behind the wheel, turning in the seat to look at you. "Hey. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just been a long..." You turned to him and shook your head. "I'm not sure how to finish that sentence."

"I hear ya. Okay, so, Sam and Chuck are finishing their blockades, Negan is doing some protection spellwork. I was thinking you and I could work on figuring out the food situation."

"I'm not really hungry. Got some pretty bad heartburn, but I'll contribute." You said.

"You should eat. I mean, _you_ should be eating more than the rest of us."

"I've got such bad heartburn that I'm nauseous. I'll just drink some water." You said, getting out of the car. Dean followed and the two of you started going through the backpacks to figure out who'd be eating what and how much. You spent a few minutes in silence before Dean stopped and looked over at you.

"So, uh, about... about what happened in North Carolina, I-"

"Dean, I'm sorry I ran out like-"

"That's not what I meant. I meant... the house. The-"

"Oh. That's not a big deal." You said, rifling through a pile of cans and packets of food.

"Yeah. It is. It's the reason you ran."

You looked up. "No, it's not. Dean, what I wrote in that letter, I don't take any of it back. I _was_ better alone. Everything was simpler." You bit your lip. "I didn't have to worry about... anything except myself. No trust or loyalty or love to care about. Just me and survival."

"Wait, but-"

"Look, I'm very grateful that you saved me from Lucifer and, yeah Lucifer was right when he said that aborting this baby would break me, so I'll... I'll be its incubator, but after it's born, I'm gone. If you want it, you can fight Negan and Lucifer for the privilege, but I won't be a part of that tug-of-war. And, yeah, I get that you're gonna spend the next 9 months trying to convince me to stay, but it won't work. I've made up my mind."

"You're damn right I'm gonna try to get you to stay. Because I am in love with you."

"No, you're not. You might have been enamored with the woman I was when we met, but I'm different now. That might be good and it might be bad, I don't know, but it's an indisputable fact that I am different and you don't like that." You grabbed a can of soup from the pile and handed to Dean. "I'm leaving. Please don't make it difficult." You stood and walked back to the Impala. Dean just stared after you as you sat down in the backseat again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean looked after y/n as she got into the backseat of his baby. She gave up on them. She gave up on the whole of Alexandria and the idea of safety in numbers because he couldn't deal with her the way she deserved. He picked up a couple packets of tuna and the can of chicken and stars that y/n handed him and walked over to the area where John was setting up their sleeping arrangements. "Shot down, huh? That's gotta suck." John commented as he rolled out a third sleeping bag.

"Shut up."

"You know your mistake?"

"I'm sure you're about to educate me." Dean muttered, dropping the can at John's feet.

"You've been treating her like a piece of porcelain since you stole her back from the Sanctuary." John looked up at him, a bit smugly. "She's not a paper doll, Dean. She's a grown woman. See, when I had her, I taught her how to shoot, how to fight, how to fuck. You..." He stood and looked into Dean's eyes. "...have treated her like she's gonna fall apart."

"You know why? Because _you_ treated her like a damn possession." Dean growled, leaning toward his father. "Like a dog! _You_ hurt her and fucked with her head, gave her trigger words that send her into a panic like 'Muffy' and 'sweetheart'. I can't just walk in with the flirting and come-ons when the last man who touched her, a man whose DNA I share, tortured her and broke her."

"And therein lies your problem, son. You think she's broken. Personally, _I_ think she's perfect."

"Yeah, she's exactly how fucked up you made her. A work of art." Dean growled. "She's leaving. After the baby, she's leaving and that's on you. She was fine at Alexandria. She had people. She wasn't hiding, anymore, and you ruined that. She's going back on the run, _alone_ , because of you."

"I don't think so, Dean. I think she'll change her mind."

"Or, what? You'll change it for her?"

John smiled, then patted Dean's shoulder. "You think I'm gonna reveal my secrets to you, son? Don't you worry about it."

"I'm not gonna let you hurt her, anymore."

"Dean... that's adorable. I don't need to hurt her. She knows where she stands with me and my people." John said loudly before he leaned next to Dean's ear and whispered, "I _like_ hurting her. It is amazing to see the look in her eyes go from hatred to lust. Knowing that I can make her scream my name, even when she wants nothing more than to see me dead, that's power."

Dean swung his fist at him, but John just ducked, chuckling. "You don't touch her." Dean demanded.

John looked amused as he leaned down, grabbing the soup can. "Tell you what, Dean, I'll do you a solid. When she comes back to me, I won't rub it in your face."

"She's not gonna-"

"How long did she last in Alexandria? 2 days? She can't sit around trying to be normal anymore, kid. She's been conditioned. She'll come back. Because, face it, you're not fulfilling her needs."

"What would you know about _anyone_ else's needs?"

"More than you, it seems." John sighed. "She's got needs, Dean. And being treated like an infant isn't one of them."

"Being treated like a _dog_ is?"

"No. That was completely for my benefit. See, y/n reminds me of your mom. She's smart, outspoken, loyal, and if she could get past her 'no kill' hippie bullshit, she's got the heart of a hunter."

"She's not Mom."

John just smiled and popped open the soup can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the middle of the night, heartburn causing discomfort. You pushed your way out of the backseat of the car and stretched. You looked over at the sleeping men. Sam, Dean and Chuck were peacefully wrapped in their sleeping bags, but Negan was nowhere to be seen. "Hey." Negan whispered from behind you. You turned to see him walking around the back side of the car. "What are you doing awake? You need sleep."

"Heartburn. Kinda hoping moving around would help it."

"Ah. If we were at the Sanctuary, I could get you some Tums, but you need to keep your mind off it 'til we get back. What you need is a distraction. Dean said you're planning to head out on your own after the baby's born."

"Are you planning to stop me?" You asked, standing up straight. You weren't sure how things were going to go down when you got back to Virginia, but you were certain that you wouldn't be leaving if you ended up back at the Sanctuary. 

John shook his head. "No. But I want you to be able to keep yourself safe, y/n." He said, softly. "I've said it before, hiding will only get you so far. You have to learn to take down the zombies."

"I know _how._ I just... they were people."

"But they're not anymore. They don't have souls, their hearts aren't beating, cells aren't replenishing. They have one tiny nerve impulse still firing in their brains, and that's the one that tells them to eat whatever makes noise. What we need is to find a weapon you're comfortable with." He said, going to the trunk and pulling it open. "Daryl's got a thing for crossbows, Rick's got his hatchet, Dean and Sammy go with machetes and Lucille is my personal favorite. Oh, what about _this_?" He pulled a foot long blade from the trunk and presented it to you. It was obviously a knife, but not like any you'd ever seen.

"What is that?" You asked, taking the handle that he presented you.

"Angel blade. Probably got it from their angel friend. Piercing and slicing weapon, made in Heaven, with celestial metals, so it will never break, never rust." John stepped around behind you, helping you hold the weapon correctly. "Headshots. The temple's the easiest, but with a blade like this, up under the chin will work, too. Straight up into the brain." He leaned down next to your ear. "We should practice. On an actual zombie." He whispered.

You swallowed, turning away from him. "I... I don't know if that's a good-"

"Nothing's ever a good idea. Come on. I'll keep you safe." John pushed you softly toward the roll-up gate out of the garage. You let him push you. He was right. You needed to learn how to deal with the ghouls. You could only hide from them for so long. You wouldn't use what he teaches you on another human, but the ghouls were not human anymore. He rolled the gate up slowly, casting a glance back at the men sleeping on the other side of the garage to make sure the sound didn't wake them, dropping it just as slowly once you'd made it on the other side. "Now, let's go find a lone zombie."

"Negan, I... I'm really nervous. Can't we wait until everyone else wakes up? Maybe, at least, for the sun to-"

"God, don't call me that. We're alone. We're thousands of miles from Virginia and any of my people. I love it when you call me 'John'."

You took a deep breath and stopped in your tracks. "You don't get to be two people, anymore. You tortured me. It wasn't Negan torturing me and John treating me nicely. You, John Winchester, treated me horribly _and_ fucked with my head by being nice afterward."

He stopped, turning to you. "I was doing it for you. You've met my men. They would've been a lot worse to you than I was." He said, casting his eyes downward.

"Why?! Because you were-"

"Because, you made me fall for you." He took a deep breath. "You are the only one I've ever told my life to. You're the only one who knows about Mary, about hunting. You're the only one who knows about my sons. You think I did all this just for the sex? I have a _harem_. You... do something to my heart and I wasn't sure I still had one." You swallowed as he caught your eyes. "You know I didn't hurt you as much as you've been led to believe. You know you enjoyed a lot of our time together."

"And I feel horrid about that." You whispered, furiously.

"Why? Why should you feel bad about liking something? We work well together. I mean, come on..." He brought his left hand down to your belly. "We created life together. We had amazing sex and we created life."

You pulled his hand away. "You raped me. You raped me and forced me to-"

"You _chose_. I didn't force you to do anything. You participated from the very first time and you liked it."

You scoffed, tightening your grip on the angel blade. "You gave me an option of starve in a cell while you beat Daryl or let you do what you wanted to me. That's not an actual option."

"So, I strong-armed you a little bit. You had fun, though. I thought, maybe... you might get past-"

"The pain you put me through? The emotional torture? The ever-present confusion in my mind?"

"I scared you. I know I did, and I'm sorry, but I had to keep you at my side. You're... I haven't touched Sherry since the first time I touched you. Even when you were taken from me."

"I don't belong to you."

"But you could. I would love for you to be... wife number 3." He said, softly.

You realized as you looked up at him that he'd been speaking softly the entire conversation. You'd gotten angry and passionate, but he'd kept his voice down and was still looking at you with vulnerable, sad eyes. "You... wha-" You looked around the street. "You... _no_." You focused on his face again. "If you could be... if you could be John Winchester again, if you could find the light again, I might not hate you, but why would I want to be your wife? You're not a good man. You like not being a good man."

"And if I could be a good man again?"

"Do you even remember how?" Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you rubbed at them. "How to save people without wanting anything in return, how to walk through a building without expecting everyone to kneel to you? How to look at a group of women and not just see sex dolls?"

"I've got that last one. I told you, haven't even touched Sherry since I fell for you. The rest of them are just... getting the benefits of being mine without putting in the time."

You shook your head, a hysteria rising in your chest. "John... I can't hear that. I can't hear that you think you love me. How you treated me, what you did... I believe Dean more when he says it than you, and I know he can't love me." Your breath started coming in short as you began to panic. The confusion in your head at the conflicting personalities of the man in front of you.

"I'll prove it to you. I don't know how, but I will." John stepped away from you. "Come on. We need to shove a knife in a zombie's brain."

"I... But..." You took a deep breath to push back your panic and followed him away from the garage. "Fine. Let's find a ghoul so I can put it down. Then, we're going back to the garage."

The ghoul you found was shuffling alone down an alley. John wrangled it into a corner and pushed a pallet against it to hold it in place. You looked up into its decaying face and couldn't help but think of your parents, how they'd look like that if they were still shambling around. You thrust your hand upward, the angel blade piercing the chin, up through the soft palate and into the brain. It slumped against the wood and dropped to the concrete as soon as you pulled the blade out. 

John smiled at you as you looked at the dead ghoul at your feet. "So?"

"So, what?"

"How'd you feel about it?"

"You don't care." You responded, walking back toward the garage.

"Of course, I do." John kept up with you, easily.

"Repeating yourself doesn't make it true." You muttered, pulling the roll-up door open, not caring about the noise.

John grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him. "What happened to the respect? Huh? You think just because we're out of the Sanctuary, just because you've got my baby inside you, you can treat me like a monster?"

You pulled your hand away. "I stood up to Lucifer. If I couldn't call you on your bullshit, that'd mean that you scare me more than Satan and you don't. You're only scary when you're unpredictable. This... this is you manipulating me, again, and I'm not falling for it."

"My love isn't a manipulation."

"You mentioning it is. You insisting upon it, you insisting you care. All of it! You're a sociopath, John. You are crazy, controlling and horrible. You e _njoy_  breaking people and, congratulations, John, you broke me. But you aren't going to continue to break me. You aren't going to continue to manipulate me. I will never believe that you love me. I will never believe that you care for anything other than yourself. Hell, you couldn't even care for your sons, you piece of-"

"You-!" He growled, making you jump. "-better bite your tongue, sweetheart. I will not be disrespected." His eyes had a dangerous hard edge to them as he looked down at you. 

You swallowed and stepped backward, hitting a concrete pillar. He advanced on you, putting his hands on the concrete on each side of your head. "I'll take 'sociopath' and I'll take 'psychopath' because, hell, one o' those might be _true_. But you will _not_  call me 'shit'." He dipped his head down, forehead leaning against yours. "Y/n, I don't want to be 'Negan' with you, anymore. I don't _have_  to be. I would much rather be 'John'. But if you're gonna look at me, I'd rather you have fear in your eyes than hatred. Just keep that in mind." He whispered, before placing a kiss on your cheek and almost skipping away from you. You took a deep breath and rushed for Baby's backseat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You jerked out of your sleep to Chuck climbing into the backseat with you. "You okay?" He asked, handing you a camp mug of coffee. "I watered that down a bit. I know caffeine is... for the baby, I mean... so, that dream looked intense." He segued, awkwardly.

You looked up. "Based on my quality of sleep, or-?"

Chuck rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I can't control what I see."

"And I can't control what I dream." You took a sip of the coffee. Even watered-down, it was strong and bitter. "Negan make this?" Chuck nodded. "Figured."

"Hey. You wanna talk about it? Th-the dream, I mean. Not..."

"It was hormones and... and some poor decision-making last night. That's all." You opened the driver's side back door and pushed out of it. 

"Okay, but..." Chuck scrambled out the other side. "That place we were in, it seemed real."

You scoffed. "Yeah, Chuck, I'm sure there's an underground bunker that's fully stocked on med supplies, food, and magic books, that runs on hydroelectricity and is completely and totally safe." You said, sarcastically. "Dude, that was just my brain picking and choosing random video game and TV themes to create an environment where I'd feel safe enough to let down my guard. That's all." You dismissed.

"Look. It could exist. If it does, don't you wanna find it? I mean, that place was warded against _archangels_ , too. It was safe. Safe for the babies, too." 

"The what?!" You turned, sharply.

Chuck stumbled backward. "Th-the baby. J-John's baby."

"No." You stomped forward, menacingly. "You said 'babies', with an 'S'. Are there plural?" You whispered, your hand going to your stomach and your eyes going wide.

"Uh. Um, I... Um... it's... Fuck." He sighed, heavily. "Yes. Twin boys. I didn't see it 'til Lucifer had you. I just didn't know how to tell-" You responded by promptly throwing up on the ground at his feet. "Oh, man! Let me grab the Zofran." He said, rushing back to the Impala. You wiped at your mouth, taking the pill Chuck offered you. "Let it dissolve under your tongue." He instructed.

Dean walked up as you washed the taste of the medicine down with the coffee. "You okay?"

"She just... I told her she's having twins."

Dean's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Wha- twins? Twins don't run in our family. Yours?" You just shook your head. "So, how come she's having twins?"

Chuck looked down. "I don't know, Dean. Maybe... God saw an opportunity to get the angels back to Earth."

"What?"

"If there's two new vessels, then the fight can happen. Michael can come back. Everything can be set... right."

"Man, God never showed up through all the shit that hap- No. If she's having twins, it's not Divine Intervention. Lucifer must've done something, or it's a freak thing. Besides, Michael wouldn't come back to this decimated rock. Remember when Zachariah took me to the future? Gone is gone and they ain't comin' back."

"A baby would be more agreeable, more..." Chuck looked exasperated. "It wouldn't fight Michael from the inside, _and_ it wouldn't have the same connection with its brother that you and Sam have. The fight could happen."

"Are you actually advocating for this?"

"I was _advocating_  for you and Sam, but you failed, man." Chuck sighed, scratching at his beard. "The only way this gets fixed, Dean, is with the fight. Michael versus Lucifer, winner takes all."

"And you're now of the position that God would want that?" Dean growled, balling his hands into fists. 

"I think He's probably pretty tired of watching everything He created get destroyed by zombies and people who forgot how to be civilized as soon as their normal got fractured!" You were a bit shocked at Chuck's tone. You'd never seen him get this passionate about anything.

"Chuck, if he cared, he could fix it without sacrificing two completely innocent babies to a fight between freakin' atom bombs. He's all-powerful, right? Why wouldn't he just snap his fingers-"

"Why should he?" You interrupted. Dean's eyebrows tucked together as he turned to you. "God helps those that help themselves, right? Everything I've heard, God seemed to help you two a lot. Gave you every opportunity to help yourselves. Gave you every opportunity to end this before it got this bad. Now, He could just wait until Lucifer destroys everything, then start over from scratch, but He's not doing that. He's bringing in alternates to do your jobs for you. I'd be grateful if I were you, Dean."

"'Alternates'." Dean whispered, before clenching his jaw in anger. "Those are our kids you're talkin' about."

"No, they're not. They are your little brothers and you best not get attached, because as soon as they're born I'm handing them over to the angels." You stalked away from them, ignoring the shocked looks on Dean and Chuck's faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You sure this is the best route back to Virginia, Chuck? This is, kinda, the middle of nowhere." Sam asked as they pushed a van out of the road. They weren't letting you help clear the path, of course, so you were following along behind.

"Yeah, where are we, anyway?" Dean asked.

"We're about 30 miles North of Lebanon, Kansas." John answered. 

"Geographic center of the contiguous United States." Chuck provided from the driver's seat.

"Lebanon?" Irritation seeped into your voice as your followed the van to the shoulder of the road. "Are you taking us out of our way for a stupid dream, Chuck?"

"No. I mean, yeah, but only about 50 miles. Your dream was _really_ specific."

"What dream?" Sam asked, turning to you.

"I don't want to talk about! And I, obviously, didn't wanna chase it down!" You yelled at Chuck.

"Her dream was super vivid and _super_  specific, just like my visions. It's worth checking out." 

"She's not a prophet. Why would she be dreaming future stuff?" Dean asked.

"Thank you! It's just a dream! Let's go home."

"Well, wait a second, sweetheart. What did the dream say was in Lebanon?" John asked, leaning against the back of the van.

"The safest place in America. A bunker that's been locked up since, like, the 50s. It's got a kitchen full of non-perishables, an armory full of guns and blades, a generator powered by the river and beds for all of us. It's also got warding against angels and demons and it's all behind a heavy iron door."

The men all looked at you. "Listen, I get that it sounds like paradise, but that's exactly why it can't be real." You argued.

"It's only a few hours. Why not make sure?" Sam argued back.

"How we gettin' in?" Dean asked. "Big iron door, I mean-"

"There's a key in a house in Lebanon." Chuck answered.

You groaned, hitting your forehead with your palm. "For fuck's sake." You shook your head as you headed back to the car. Of course, none of them would listen to you. You're just the woman who _had_  the damn dream. 

"You know which house?" John's voice hit you as you pulled open the back of the Impala.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't go in the house with them. Chuck saw the dream. If the key was real, he could find it without you, and unfortunately, he did. The men walked out, Sam triumphantly holding a small box. If the key is real, the bunker is, too, which means the dream was prophetic. You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep in order to better ignore them. "So, hit the river, see if we can find the big-ass iron door you saw?" Dean's voice penetrated the window despite his whispering.

"Sounds good." John responded. It sounded like it was coming over the top of the Impala. He was on the opposite side of the car.

"Hey, before we go." Sam started. There was a moment of silence where you assumed they were checking to see that you were asleep, before he continued. "What else happened in that dream, Chuck?"

"Uh, I don't- what do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Chuck. We're not stupid. Y/n didn't even want to _entertain_  the idea that this bunker might exist. She wanted the dream to be 'just a dream' real fuckin' bad and it ain't because she's missin' home 'cause Alexandria isn't that for her anymore. She's planning to leave those people once the babies are born. Something else went down in that dream that she's desperate to be fake. What?" Dean demanded. 

"G-guys, it's not... it's not my business. It's not _your_  business. Just... leave her alone about it, okay?" You silently thanked God for Chuck.

You heard fingers tapping on the roof of the car. "Yo, prophet, just spill, man. I have very little patience today."

"Yeah, well... sorry. It's not my place."

"Look, just tell us and I won't bash your skull in." John threatened.

"And I am legitimately terrified of you, Negan, but I-I think I have to, uh, stick to my guns on this one." 

"Huh. The prophet's got balls. Let's go." John said, before the sound of doors opening. "Hey, sweetheart. Wakey-wakey. We got the key. We're gonna go track down your dream bunker."

You pretended to stir as Sam and Chuck got into the backseat with you. "Goody." You murmured as Dean started the car and pulled off in the direction of the river.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	10. Love. Actually.

You stood awkwardly behind the men as Sam opened the box, sliding the pieces of wood to reveal a large, old key. Exactly how you'd dreamed it. Every matching image from your dream made your stomach feel a little sicker. The house, the key, the door on the river... there would be a spiral staircase on the other side, leading into a room with a light-up table with a map on it. Computer banks would line the walls of the first room, but they'd give way to an open library full of lore and magic books. Dean would find the power switch and everyone would go exploring.

Sam swung the door open and took a cautious step over the threshold, pistol in one hand, machete in the other. John followed, then Dean. Chuck shot an apologetic look at you before stepping over the threshold and you felt like you were glued to the ground. Panic rising in your chest, you considered running again. If you ran, the dream couldn't be real. If you ran, though, Lucifer might get his hands on _both_ babies and you couldn't risk that. It needed to be done. God chose you to... God chose your children to get this over with. 

You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move, carrying you into the bunker as Dean found the power switch and the lights came on. John quickly came up and closed the door behind you as your eyes fell on the exact images from your dream. "Oh, God." fell from your lips.

"All right. Sam, Dean, spread out, check for zombies. Prophet, keep an eye on our girl." John ordered. He said it like it was your safety on his mind, but you read it for what it meant. 'Don't let her run.'

The Winchesters descended the staircase and disappeared. They wouldn't find anything. You sat on the top stair and hung your head. Chuck sat next to you and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"The dream... it's all real. It's _all_ real, isn't it?" You didn't look at him as tears started to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Probably. Yeah." He answered, softly.

"Why would I _do_ that? Why would I let him... why would I put that ring on? I _have_ to be missing something."

"The visions are like that, sometimes. Sometimes there's big chunks of important information missing. Like, one time, I saw Sam in bed with this demon, Lilith, but I didn't see that he had the demon-killer knife under the pillow. And I didn't see that Sam killing Lilith would let Lucifer out of his Cage. I didn't see the twins." He finished, softly.

You looked over at him, finding comfort in his blue eyes. "Why me?" You whispered. You weren't sure why, but you honestly felt he had that answer.

He put his hand on your back, running his thumb across your coat. "Because John picked you." He sighed. "He's got Sherry and he's got that group back at the Sanctuary, but... once he... after he had you... y/n, you know how obsessed with Mary he is. He's replaced her in his heart, after 30 years, with _you_."

"But I don't want that."

"Mary didn't, either. Not at first. The angels interfered." Chuck's face showed volumes of pity. "The Cupids are gone, so you couldn't be forced to fall in love with him, so you just..."

"Had to be forced. Right." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "So, God must hate me, right?"

"Nah. I don't think so. I think... he probably admires your strength and intelligence. I think he's probably happy John picked a woman who sees the big picture, who's strong enough to put _her_ stuff away and do what needs to be done. What Sam and Dean couldn't do."

"Place is clean." John's voice made you tense, but Chuck slipped his arm around you, comfortingly, before helping you stand. John's eyes narrowed at the contact between you and the prophet, but he turned and headed for the hallway you knew led to the bedrooms. "This one's yours." He opened the door with a '12' on it. "You get one of the ones in the cross hall." He spat at Chuck. 

Chuck patted your arm and you slipped into room 12, slamming the door behind you. You looked in the mirror over the sink next to the door and sighed. You looked like shit. Your eyes were sunken and you were obviously dehydrated. Your face was sunburned, your skin was dry and your hair was stringy and oily. You needed a shower and a meal and... the apocalypse to be over. You needed the Winchesters to go the fuck away. All of them. Sam seemed okay, but you were certain that was only because he wasn't trying to or failing to fuck you. 

You collected all of your clothes from your bag and headed down the hall to the shower room. You locked the door behind you and took a nice hot shower with the best water pressure you'd ever experienced. You wrapped yourself in an thick, old robe and tied the sash in a double knot, before picking up all of your clothes and heading to the laundry room. You put your clothes into the old Bendix washing machine and poured some detergent powder in on top of them. You started the machine and ran for your bedroom, locking the door behind you. The woman in the mirror looked like you again, but you were definitely in need of some water, so you filled a cup that was sitting on the sink and sat on the bed to drink your water in your comfy robe.

Your stomach was starting to growl when a knock came to your door. "Go away." 

"Thought you might be hungry. It's been a while since you ate. You want some chicken noodle?" John's voice was barely muffled by the hard wood door.

Your stomach spoke for you, rumbling at the thought of food. You stood, double-checking yourself in the mirror to make sure the robe was completely covering you before opening the door. His eyes roamed over your body, like he was imagining what's under that robe. He smiled and offered you the bowl. You took it in both hands and sat on the bed, pushing the robe down your legs and putting the bowl in your lap. You took a bite of the soup and smiled. It was warm. Actual real warm soup was something you hadn't experienced in a long while. "Thanks, John."

John shut the door behind him and looked down at you, a soft smile on his face. "No problem. Thanks for accepting it. After how I acted the other night, I was afraid you'd throw it in my face."

"Too hungry to waste good food like that." You responded, pulling another spoonful of soup to your lips. 

"I wanted to apologize for that. You know, I knew I went too far as soon as I walked away. I don't want you scared of me, Y/n." He said, sitting down on the edge of your bed. You chose to ignore his proximity by shoveling more soup into your mouth. "I want you to love me. I want you to be mine and no one else's, y/n, and I know that's a stupid thought now and I wish I hadn't treated the way I did. I was so afraid I'd ruined any chance I had of making you my wife, all because I called you 'Muffy' and made you get a little too intimate with Lucille." You shivered at the memory and swallowed another mouthful of soup. "But then, Chuck gave me an idea. See, my beautiful Mary, she had to be persuaded to love me. A Cupid got her, shot her with some Enochian spell to make her fall head over heels for me." 

You looked up, your eyebrows coming together in confusion. His smirk was enough to make you nauseated. "You _really_ shouldn't accept food from a crazy, controlling sociopath. He might have dosed it with love potion." You threw the bowl off of your lap and it crashed to the floor, splashing the bedframe with pieces of chicken and veggies. "These Men of Letters, they had so many books, so many spells. It took me half an hour to find the components for that spell. Can you imagine? It took me years just to find the proper sigils to protect the Sanctuary. I not only found the spell, but the pieces I needed to put it together in this bunker, in less than an hour. This really is a dream come true."

"You poisoned me?!" 

"Shh." He ran his hand down your arm and it sent a confused fog to your brain. "In a couple minutes, it won't matter. You'll be in love."

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. "No." You said, weakly, trying to get off of your bed. He grabbed your arms and pulled you back onto the bed. You grabbed onto his white tee and tried to not look at him, but after a moment you blinked up at him. Your fingers relaxed and your hands came to rub across his chest. "John." You breathed out.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He asked, his smirk making his eyes sparkle.

"I'm so sorry I ever doubted your love. I can feel it, now." You stared into his eyes, completely sure of the mutual love in your hearts. "I love you, too, John."

"Of course, you do. How about you show me just how much you love me, baby girl?" He suggested, pushing your hands down to the button of his jeans.

"Anything for you, John." You responded, wistfully, leaning forward to catch his lips while you popped the button and pulled his zipper down. "I wanna make up for all the horrible things I said about you, the terrible way I treated you." You mumbled against his lips as he leaned back to lie on the bed, taking you with him to lie on top of him. "I want to make you feel so good to make up for how bad you must've felt hearing me say all those-"

"Sweetheart, shut up and suck my cock." He whispered, amused. He shimmied his jeans down his legs. 

"Of course." You grabbed his dick, almost immediately hard in your hand and ran your hand up and down it in exactly the way he'd taught you. You leaned forward and swiped your tongue across the head. He grunted and his hand buried in your hair, but you didn't let him push your head down. You brought your lips to his cockhead, placing kisses down his length until you got to the nest of hair at the base before twisting to place those kisses on his balls. You licked from the base to his head and dipped your tongue into the divot where precum was already starting to gather. "Have I ever told you how much I love your cock, John? It's so perfect, so nice, so big." You praised, before taking him in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You pumped the base of his dick as you bobbed your head up and down, nipping slightly at his frenulum every time you came up to the head.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are gorgeous. Swallowing my cock so pretty. I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't move." He grunted. You moaned as he pushed you backward onto the mattress and easily pulled the knot out of the sash on your robe. He pulled your robe open and stared down at your body. "Oh, y/n. I fuckin' love your body." He ran his hand across your belly, the bump already becoming prominent with the twin boys inside your womb. "I want you to scream for me. Can you do that, sweetheart? I want you to scream my name. I want them to know who you love."

"Okay." You breathed out as his head dropped between your legs. He didn't go slow, no licking and nibbling his way to the place you needed him most. He rammed his tongue into your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit as his hand came up under your ass to push your groin into his face. "Oh, fuck! Oh, John. More." John smirked as he pulled back enough to look up into your face, before sucking your clit between his lips and sucking on it, hard. "Ah!"

He crawled up your body and looked down into your eyes, his cock pulsing against your lips. "I love you, y/n." He whispered, cupping your face in his right hand before kissing you deeply. You grabbed at his shoulders and wrapped your legs around him. He reached between you and lined his cock up, sinking into you with ease. His head dropped to the crook of your neck and he groaned, licking at your skin. "God, I missed you. Those beautiful tits, your amazing strong tight pussy... do that thing I like." He ordered, nibbling at your shoulder.

You clenched your vaginal muscles, making him groan. He held tight to you as he pulled almost all of the way out and then began to push back into you, pushing an inch or two in, then pulling out and pushing in even further. You threw your head back as he bottomed out. It'd been months since he was inside you and you felt a little breathless at finally having the man you loved where he belonged again. "Remember, sweetheart. Loud as you can, let my sons and the prophet know exactly who you love."

You nodded and he grabbed your shoulder as he began to thrust into you. "Oh, my god! John! God, yes! Oh, god!" You screamed. Normally, you weren't so vocal, but that's what your love wanted from you, so you screamed and moaned like a porn star as he picked up his speed and fucked you hard. He moved his left hand between you and used his thumb to rub your clit to orgasm as he came deep inside of you. You fell over the ledge right after him, screaming as loud as you could. 

He pulled out and kissed you, softly, before jumping up off of the bed. "Let me go check on your clothes, okay, babe? Why don't you clean yourself up? And, uh, that soup you dropped."

"Yeah." You said, sitting up and pulling the robe back around yourself. 

"Hey, y/n?" He stopped at the door. You looked over at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, John." You smiled, happily as he slipped out the door, quickly closing it behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John shut the door and turned around to see Dean leaning against the wall across from the door. His arms were crossed over his chest and there was a deep scowl on his face. He straightened when he saw his father. "What the fuck?"

"What?" John started, innocently, before throwing a look at the bedroom. "Oh. We made up." 

Dean pushed away from the wall. "You made up? From you kidnapping and raping her? You made up from treating her like a fucking _dog_?" 

Dean moved to open the door, but John put his hand up to stop him. "I told you, Dean. It's all _about_ how you treat her and... you didn't treat her right. Didn't treat her like the strong, beautiful woman she is."

"Move out of the way. Let me talk to her." 

"Of _course_ , Dean. I was just trying to save you from some disappointment." John feigned an earnest expression as he moved out of the way and Dean moved to knock on door number 12. He walked down the hall toward the laundry room with a smirk on his face. 

Dean glared at his father's back as he walked down the hallway. He didn't knock on the door, just opened it and walked in. "Y/n?"

She was on the floor, cleaning up a spilled bowl of soup with the sash of her robe. She looked up. "Oh, Dean. I thought... thought you were John." 

Dean's eyebrows came together as she smiled up at him, holding her robe closed with her left hand. "Are-are you okay? I mean, you-"

"I know what you're gonna say." She stood, looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm usually not that loud, you know, but John wanted me to vocalize. I think it's a dominance thing." 

"A..." Dean shook his head. "What... what's goin' on?"

"I think he just wanted to make sure everyone knew that we were... together, you know?"

"But _why_ are you together? I'm sorry. I'm just so... confused, here."

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him, pity in her eyes as she gave a tight smile. "Dean... your father loves me."

"He tortured you." 

"He _had_ to. His men are terrible, okay? They would have seen how he feels about me and they would have done so much worse to me. He saved me. Because he loves me. We're in love, Dean."

"But you weren't this morning." Dean growled. 

She nodded in understanding. "I get what this is about. You're jealous."

"What?! No, I'm not jea-"

"You had your chance, Dean. You're the one who said 'pineapple'." 

"This isn't about that! He's horrible! What the hell has he done to you?"

She shook her head. "He hasn't _done_ anything to me. I just... realized, you know?"

"You just realized?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Right. Yesterday you hated him, but today you realized you love him? That doesn't seem wonky to you?"

She shrugged. "No. Not really." She dropped back down to clean up the soup. "Oh! So, I was thinking that maybe you and Sam could go to Alexandria and pick up everybody, bring them back here where it's safe."

Dean leaned against the sink. "That's not gonna happen." 

"Well, I know it's not ideal. I mean, maybe you don't bring the whole town, but definitely Daryl and Michonne and Maggie. I mean, she's gonna want somewhere safe for baby Rhee and I guess Rick would have to come if Judith and Carl were gonna come. Rosita would be nice for Sam to have some fun with, but..."

"That's not the problem. Negan killed their people. They're not just gonna get over that and live with him in harmony." Dean looked down at her as she scooped soup in her hands and dropped it into the bowl.

"Well, they'll _have_ to get over that. He's the father of my children and I love him. If they care about _me_ , they'll get over it." She looked up at him from the floor and gave a pointed look. " _Everyone_ who cares about me should get over this."

"If they care about you, they won't want you being controlled by a psycho like him." Dean shook his head, stepping away from the sink. "I'm gonna find out what he did to you."

Y/n sighed, wiping up the rest of the soup with the edge of her robe, before standing and dropping the bowl in the sink. "He didn't do anything, Dean."

"Yes, he did. Whatever it is, you can't see it, but I know-"

"She said I didn't do anything, son. You callin' her a liar, or just stupid?" John opened the door and walked in. "Your clothes are in the dryer, baby. You're gonna be stuck in that robe for another hour, or so." He moved to stand in front of her, grasping the edges of her robe. "Wonder how we could kill an hour."

"John!" She squealed and giggled as he pushed her into the wall and attacked her neck with his mouth. "John, Dean's right there!"

"He can watch, if he wants." John whispered as he reached down to grab her legs and hitch them around his waist. "Long as he keeps his distance." 

The bedroom door slammed as Dean fled the room in a rage. He stomped down the hallway to Chuck's room, which was open. "Explain that!" He demanded, pointing in the direction of y/n's room. 

Chuck shook his head. "I don't have all the answers, man! I don't _know_ how to explain that."

"Okay." Dean closed the door behind him. "Then, tell me what she was so upset about yesterday. What about the dream was she freakin' out about?"

Chuck sighed and looked down. "This... and the ring."

"The what?"

"He's gonna ask her to marry him. She's gonna say 'yes' and she's gonna... John's been carrying around Mary's wedding ring for thirty years."

"No." Dean's face fell. "He's not gonna give her my mother's ring. She wouldn't accept that." He began to pace the small room. "Especially if she was so worried about it yesterday. He had to have done something to her. Blackmail? Cursed item? Love spell?" 

"I don't know, but I mean, John's not a witch."

"But you agree that isn't natural?" Dean turned to him. 

"I... agree it's weird. But, you know, maybe she just had a change of heart. Women are prone to change their minds, right?"

"Chuck... don't be an idjit. Women don't change their minds like that." He pointed toward her room again. "They don't fall in love with a guy who raped them and treated them like a dog for almost a month."

"Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No." Dean shot down that idea immediately. "She's been out of his influence for-"

"Yeah, but... John can protect her."

" _I_ can protect her." Dean argued.

"But you can't make her feel whole." Chuck answered, bending down to pull a notebook out of his bag. "Okay, I have an answer on this one." He flipped the book open and flipped to the back. 

"Chuck, I don't wanna read your stupid-"

"Pick up the book and read, Dean."

Dean sighed, loudly, and picked up the notebook. 

_She remembered watching the zombie as it tried to crawl away. It was a perfect metaphor for her. No longer human. No longer whole. Just there, plugging forward, responding to outside stimulus but nothing else. Dean said he loved her and he dearly wanted to, she could tell, but he couldn't love her. The only one who wanted her, as is (pregnant, broken, conditioned to be the way John wanted her) was John. He swore he was in love with her, too, and somehow it was more believable from him. Of course, he only loved her the way he made her, but he was probably the only one who would ever love her. Dean couldn't love her. Dean had said 'pineapple', he'd never be able to look past her conditioning, her training. So, her options were wait and then run where she would be alone, (which she hated), stay with Dean and be content never knowing his touch, or let John have her again. Bow to what he made of her and how he made her body feel._

"What the hell is this, Chuck? Are you tryin' to tell me it's my fault she's in bed with him?"

"I'm tryin' to tell you that she's... I don't know, Dean, that she... has needs? I mean, you know... You fucked up. You knew you fucked up as soon as it happened. Maybe she just... chose the option that was easiest. All of her needs can be met this way, and the babies' needs."

Dean shook his head. He refused to believe that. "No. No, he did something. This isn't..." He threw the notebook on Chuck's bed. "I'm gonna figure it out." He pulled the door open and stomped down the hall toward his own room. 


	11. Venus Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry about the wait. I feel terrible that it took me so long to get this out.

Something was wrong. You were moaning? There was heat from a body pressed against your back. You were on your side, with your leg lifted over someone's thigh to give them better access for... Oh, that's why you were moaning. Your eyes fluttered, trying to focus, to open fully and understand, but the hand on your hip pulled you back and changed the angle enough that his strokes hit you in just the right spot and your eyes squeezed shut. The little grunting noises behind you slowly brought you back to trying to understand. "Wait. Wha- what?"

"Shhh. It's okay, sweetheart. Your medicine is just wearing off. Drink this. It's gonna make everything better." John's voice was soft, loving even, as he pressed a squeeze-bottle against your lips. He didn't stop fucking you as he waited for you to drink, busying himself during your indecision with licking and sucking at your neck. Something in your head screamed at you not to drink it. 'POISON!' flashed at you from some dark recess. "Come on, y/n. Are you going to do this every night? You want this. This drink is the thing that's been making you happy. No worries, no regrets, no shame for how you feel about me. Just drink it."

Your thoughts clouded as his other hand moved between your legs. "Just take your fuckin' medicine, Mrs. Winchester, or I'ma be forced to  _make_ you take it."

"Wha- Winchester? I'm not-"

"Left hand, sweetheart." You lifted your hand to see a yellow gold band with 3 half-carat diamonds on your left ring finger. "Four days ago, wife number three, and you are ruining our honeymoon by refusing to take your meds."

"I... I don't... remember." You whispered, going breathless as his fingers danced across your clit.

"You will if you drink." He pushed the bottle into your lips harder as he rammed his hips forward.

You moaned, part of you just wanting to drink so that you could get on with enjoying the sex, but the confused part of your brain wouldn't let you drink without answers. "Where's Dea-"

"I swear, y/n, if you start asking about my son again, I'm gonna shove a gag in your pretty little mouth." John growled into your ear. 

"But... I... John..."

"Just drink and then we can finish, baby girl. Don't you wanna cum, sweetheart?" He murmured into your skin. 

"John, please. I'm so-"  _Confused_. That's what you were going to say, but the tip of the squeeze bottle pressed between your lips and liquid squirted into the back of your mouth. It was bitter, and the darkness of your mind screamed 'Spit it out!', but you swallowed, reflexively, instead. 

"That's it, sweetheart. Everything will be better in a minute." He pushed the top down on the bottle and put it on the shelf on the headboard. 

As his hand moved back to your hip, he picked up his speed and his dancing fingers started to circle around your bundle of nerves and your brain started to clear. You remembered him getting down on one knee in the library, ring in hand. You remembered thinking it was the most gorgeous ring you'd ever seen. So simple, yet so perfect, and for some reason it hadn't bothered you that the ring had been Mary's. It was an honor to slip it onto your finger. You remembered Dean smashing his fist through a wall when he walked in on you showing the ring off to Chuck. You remembered him taking your advice and getting in the Impala and driving back to Virginia with Sam to see if any of the others were willing to come back and live in peace in this bunker of safety.

You remembered being so in love with John that you let him declare you as wife number 3 the minute you heard the Impala drive away. What could you have been confused about a minute ago? "Oh, John. I don't know what's wrong with me. I- ah! Right there! Fuck!"

He chuckled in your ear and slammed his hips forward again, making you shudder. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're just tired. God knows I ain't been letting you have much rest." His tongue snaked out and licked the shell of your ear. "It ain't all on me, though. Not my fault that you look so damn fuckable all the time. Not my fault you feel so good. Got me addicted to the little fuckin' noises you make... fuck, Baby girl. I fuckin' love you so goddamn much."

"I love you, too, John." You panted out, hands grasping at your comforter as you got closer to cumming.  _Negan. This is Negan._  It was a small voice in the back of your head that got smaller with each passing moment. Your eyes lost focus and your body went rigid as your orgasm flowed through you. He fucked into you a few more times, his pace stuttering as he began to shoot cum inside of you. He pulled out and rolled you over in his arms. You smiled up at him, breathing heavily. "Good morning."

"Think it's about 2am, but, yeah, good morning, Baby girl." John kissed you, letting his hand rest against your lower stomach. "Can't wait to see the beautiful kids we made." 

You caressed his cheek, moving the stubble with your thumb. "They won't be with us very long, you know?"

"I told you, I ain't lettin' you hand them over." He said, his eyebrows raising.

"Not your choice, John. This-" You placed your hands over his on your belly. "-is how we're gonna save the world. These boys are gonna be the end of The End. The angels are gonna come back. Michael can win the battle. He can reset everything. We can have Paradise."

"Baby girl, I've already  _got_ Paradise." John smiled, sweetly, before placing another kiss on you and pulling you close. You reached down and pulled the blanket up to cover your nude bodies, before falling into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Angels?" Maggie looked at the brothers like they were crazy. "And magic?"

"Yeah, we didn't think you'd believe us." Dean responded. "But the point is the same, that we found a safe place... safer than this, and Negan has y/n there and he's done something to her. I-  _we_ were hoping that, maybe..." Dean faltered, his throat closing a bit around the words.

"Maybe you guys could help us snap her out of it." Sam finished. 

"What's he done?" Michonne asked, tightening her hold on the handle of her sword.

"We don't know, but... one minute she hates him, the next..." Sam began.

"She's screamin' his name." Dean growled.

"You think magic?" Daryl asked.

"You believe this?" Maggie turned her skeptical look on the redneck.

"There's zombies outside. Magic ain't that big a leap. The Devil ain't that big a leap. Shit we seen..." Daryl shrugged.

"We don't know, really, but we know... she was really upset at the thought of her and Negan being together and then three days later, she's wearing his ring." Dean answered.

"I'll go." Daryl stood, straightening his vest.

"Now, wait a minute. You can't just leave, we've got- What about everything going on  _here_?" Rick argued.

"y/n's a friend, an' I'm the reason Negan ever even saw her. We can't leave her with him." 

"She's there by choice."

"Not if Negan's controlling her, somehow." Michonne stood. "I'm going, too." 

Rick's eyes widened. "You can't just leave. I  _need_ you here."

"y/n needs us more. Even if you don't believe the magic and angels story, which I'm not saying I do, but he's controlling her with something. She's one of ours and we need to help her." She sighed and slung the sword onto her back. "Give us some time to get packed... and you should go ask Aaron and Eric if they want to come with us."

Dean nodded and headed out of the Grimes house. "I'm going, too." Carl followed him out, Judith in his arms.

Dean shook his head. "Look, you... you're badass for a kid, but you, uh, you can't come."

"Why not? I can help. I can kill him."

"Yeah, sure, kid.  _You're_ gonna kill him. I mean, I couldn't do it. Sam couldn't get it done. Your dad couldn't get it done. But your little preteen ass is gonna kill him." Dean stepped back toward him. "You need to stay here and keep this little cutie safe. Me and Sam, Michonne and Daryl... we'll get this done."

"You better. You better come back with his head on a platter." 

"Noted." Dean headed toward Aaron and Eric's house, knocking on the door. "Michonne wanted me to ask if you wanted to come save y/n with us. We're gonna be heading out in-"

"Yes. Let me grab my bag." Aaron said, rushing away from the door. "Eric!"

"Meet you at the gate!" Dean shouted, walking toward the gate.

"So, we have a good team together. Daryl, Michonne, Aaron?" Sam asked, walking up, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah. You talk to Rosita?"

Sam shook his head. "Rosie's a 'shoot first, ask questions never' kinda woman, especially when it comes to Dad. We wouldn't have an opportunity to figure out what Dad did to y/n."

Dean nodded. "Think we can do it? Think 5 of us is enough?"

"He's one guy. I mean, yeah, he's  _Dad_ , but he's just one guy. 5 should be plenty." 

"6." A gruff accent corrected as a body showed up next to them. They turned to Crowley with twin looks of confusion on their faces. "Don't look at me like that. Yer goin' against Papa Winchester, a li'l demon power might help."

"And why would you want to help with this?" Sam asked.

"Besides the fact that your father is a major pain in the ass and a psychopath that I would have loved to see under the knife in Hell?" Crowley pulled his hands from the pockets of his suit pants and stepped closer to them. "I  _like_ y/n. She's too good fer what Negan's got planned fer her. She's too good fer what Lucifer's got planned fer her, too. And I owe her. She's the only reason I'm off the Rock and out from under that nightmare's thumb."

"And how do we know you're not gonna hand her over to Lucifer as soon as you find out where Dad has her?"

"Your prophet would see that double-cross a mile away. I'm not on Lucifer's team. I never  _have_ been. Remember? That betrayal is why I'm the last of my kind!"

The boys looked between themselves. "Might be a good idea to have him around."

Dean nodded. "You betray us, there won't be  _any_ more of your kind."

"Who's this? Did you let him in?" Michonne walked up with her hand reaching back to grasp her katana's handle.

"This is Crowley. He's a-" Dean faltered at 'friend'.

"I'm a demon and a friend to y/n, even if I despise these imbeciles." Crowley let his eyes go red and Michonne's fingers slipped off of the sword.

She stared at him for a few long moments before she nodded. "Demon. Okay." She cleared her throat. "He's coming with us?"

"Yeah. He might be able to help us figure out how Negan got y/n to think she's in love with him." Dean responded, pulling the gate open as the others approached in a car.

"Probably a love potion." Crowley answered, his eyes flipping back to normal.

"Dad's not a witch." Dean argued.

"Don't need to be a witch to make a potion. They're like hex bags; the ingredients do the work." Crowley confirmed, looking at the brothers like they were idiots. "You boys managed hex bags and summoning spells just fine. You think your  _father_ couldn't manage the same?"

"Okay. So, how do we reverse the effects of a love potion?" Sam asked as they got into the Impala.

"You wait it out. Effects are gonna be short-lived; 24 to 48 hours even fer a good quality one. Keep her away from 'im 'til it wears off, don't let him give her food or drink... she'll be fine in two days, tops." Crowley stayed outside the car. "I'm not up for roadtrippin' with you boys. I'll meet you there."

"Do you even know where we're going?" Dean asked, glaring at the demon.

"Lebanon, Kansas. I know all about the little bunker she unwillingly led you to. I'll meet you there." He repeated, then disappeared. 

Michonne stared at the spot Crowley had been standing. "Magic. Right." She took a deep breath and got into the back of the Impala. "This should bug me more."

"Amazing how fast you can get used to shit." Dean commented as he pulled out past the gate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You don't have to do that, Chuck. I'm not  _that_ pregnant, yet." You said, looking down at the prophet as he put on your socks and shoes.

"I know, but... I like helping you." He smiled and stood. "I know John doesn't like it, but... you're my friend." 

You smiled up at him from the chair in the library. "He's just territorial. He gets jealous, you know?" You stood and patted his shoulder. "Where is he, by the way?"

"He said he was going out to look for 'something special'." Chuck did air quotes. "He'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay." You smiled and headed for the kitchen. "What do we think about oatmeal for breakfast today? I could chip some more of that brown sugar off the block and make some cookies later, too."

"I'm glad your morning sickness has gone away a bit."

"Yeah, the acid gets me, still, but at least I'm not throwing up all the time, anymore. Would've died without that Zofran you found me, so... thanks, Chuck."

The sound of the door opening caught your attention and you turned, pushing past Chuck to run back to the spiral staircase and greet your husband. You skidded to a stop at the end of the hallway as your eyes settled on Dean and Sam, followed by Michonne, Daryl and a wonder-eyed Aaron who was standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, looking around in shock. "You're back! And you brought people!" You exclaimed, rushing to the end of the stairs.

"Where's Negan?" Dean asked, his voice tight.

"I don't know where John is. He left before I woke up again this morning. Said he's going searching for something special." You said, excitedly pushing past him to embrace Daryl. "I'm so happy you came! I thought maybe, because of John, you wouldn't want to be here, but you are here and I'm so happy!"

"You, uh, you okay?" Daryl asked, patting your back softly.

"Of course, I am! I'm in love and I'm married and my friends are here and there is oatmeal and brown sugar in the kitchen! Come on!" You turned and rushed toward the hallway, but Dean grabbed your arm. You looked up at him, eyes shining with confusion. "Dean, what-"

"You're being controlled, y/n. He's done something."

"This again?" You pulled away, shaking your head. "He hasn't  _done_ anything to me, Dean. Your dad and I are in love. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Ain't natural." Daryl stepped up.

"The demon said it's probably a love potion. Something he's been feeding you or giving you to drink." Michonne gave you a sad, yet exasperated look.

_Medicine!_ The little voice in your head yelled. You shook it away. "A love potion? Are you crazy? I'm not under the influence of anything. I'm in love, with the father of my sons." You ran your hand across your belly and sighed. "I didn't expect you guys to be happy for me, but I really wasn't expecting you to come in here with these crazy-ass stories. Love potion, really?"

"Come on! Look around you. You think that man couldn't figure out how to put together a potion from the shit in this bunker?! This is a man who figured out his sons' destinies years before the angels even made it back to Earth, who knew how to track demons through crop death and learned Enochian with no help from anybody. He was smart enough to put together an entire network of those Savior assholes back in Virginia. You really think he couldn't-"

The sound of a book slamming against a table in the library made everyone turn. "This one." Crowley flipped the book open about 150 pages and pointed to an entry. "Venus Water. Pulls every feeling of love you've ever had to the surface, and makes you think they're all about  _him_. Looks like it lasts a single moon. Means he's giving her the potion every bloody day."

"No. You're... you're wrong." You shook your head.  _Medicine! Poison! Medicine!_   "He's... it's medicine... for Henry and Robert."

"You named them?" Dean looked down at your belly.

You nodded, happily, your hands resting on your belly bump. "John and I agreed. Henry for his father, Robert for his best friend, Bobby Singer." 

The rage in Dean's eyes scared you. "Where does he get off naming the kid after Bobby?! He abandoned Bobby just as sure as he abandoned  _us_!"

"Dean, calm down." Sam put his hand on his brother's arm and pulled him back, slightly. 

"No! He is poisoning her and lying to her and disrespecting one of the best men we've ever met by pretending he actually gave a damn about Bobby!" Dean pulled his arm back and stomped toward you. "You have to snap out of this shit!"

"There's nothing to snap out of!"

Crowley was suddenly between you and the hunter. "Yes, it's a brilliant idea to terrify the lass who's pregnant with the only beings who might end the bloody apocalypse. Back off, Winchester."

You wiped at the tears that stubbornly refused to stop rolling down your cheek. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Come on. I'd love to try yer oatmeal." He said, softly, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen. "When's the last time Negan gave you yer medicine, pet?" He asked, loudly, as the two of you walked down the hallway.

"Oh, uh, around 2 am. It makes my stomach sour, so he wakes me up, gives it to me, then helps me get back to sleep."

"So, he keeps it in your bedroom? That's smart." Crowley wrapped his arm around you as Sam broke away from the group following and headed for your bedroom. "Seems like he's trying to make sure these boys grows up better than his other two. He does know yer handin' 'em over to Lucifer an' Michael once they're born, right?"

"He likes to think he'll change my mind." You chuckled as you stepped down into the kitchen. "But as much as I love John... God chose me for these babies... so that I could help fix this. I get to help end this Hell on Earth, get everyone to Paradise. Isn't that great?! John will forgive me for it, some day."

Crowley sat at the table, but Daryl, Michonne, and Aaron stood, looking around the kitchen. "This is-" Aaron started.

"Are you guys gonna eat?" You asked. Your eyes fell on the void where Sam and Dean should've been, but you made yourself ignore the alarm bells going off at their absence. Something told you that they were up to no good, pulling something to hurt John, but... some part of you made you ignore it.

"Yeah. We can eat. When, uh, when do you think  _John_ will be home?" Aaron asked, sitting at the table across from Crowley.

"I don't know. He left early this morning to go find something special. At least, that's what Chuck said, but it's not 100% because Chuck saw it in a vision 'cause John doesn't talk to him, much."

"Where is Chuck?" Daryl asked, looking around for signs of the bearded prophet.

"Oh, I don't know. He might think John's home. He kinda hides if John's around." You answered, putting a large stock pot on the stove. "They don't get along. I mean, they get along better than John and  _Dean_ but I really think that's about Alpha status, you know? It's a really dumb animal-brain thing, but Dean has been really threatening to John's dominant status, like he wants to have me, or something. You'd think he'd be less macho after his bedroom dysfunction, but nope." You mused, grabbing a sealed bag of oats off of the shelf and setting it on the counter.

You smiled at the room as you turned on the sink and filled the pot with the hose attachment. "I'm so happy you guys are here!" You exclaimed. Aaron gave you a tentative smile, Crowley gave a real one, but Michonne and Daryl just stared at you from their stations next to the kitchen door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where is he, Chuck?" Sam demanded, quietly.

"He went out this morn-"

"We know that! 'Something special', right?" Dean growled. " _Where_?"

"I-I don't know where he's going. I don't know where he's getting it."

"Bullshit!" Dean erupted as quietly as possible.

"No, really. I have no clue where the nearest Ob/Gyn office is!"

"Which is where he's gone to get...?" Sam asked.

"An ultrasound machine. He thinks she'll change her mind about giving them up if she can see them growing in her. He's determined to raise the twins like he... didn't get to with you guys."

"What's that- He neglected and abandoned us. He had  _every_ opportunity to do it right, he just couldn't get over his revenge bullshit."

"No, no. Raise 'em with their mom, you know? He didn't have a chance to raise you with Mary, you know?"

"When's he gonna get back?" Sam whispered.

"I dunno. I mean, definitely before tomorrow. I mean, he-he never lets y/n wake up without him."

"Yeah, wanna know why?" Dean growled.

"I know  _why_ , Dean. You think I'm stupid? I saw the love potion on the day you left! But what was I gonna do? He's bigger than me, and she's in love. You ever watch 'Cops'? There's a reason domestics are so dangerous. She'd've attacked me for tryin' to help."

"You're a fuckin' coward." Dean shook his head. "He's been dosing her and raping her every day that we've been gone and you didn't try to stop it because you're scared? How scared do you think she's gonna be when she finally comes out of it? How pissed off, huh? When she wakes up and realizes that her  _friend_ has been sitting idle while she was victimized  _again_?"

"I'm pretty sure she'll understand, Dean. She kneeled for him a long time ago. She knows what he does to people who get in his way. You're the one who knew something was wrong and disappeared to Virginia for almost 3 damn weeks!"

"So that I could get people to help me snap her out of it! Meanwhile, you're sitting on the information that he's giving her love potion every night, when you should've been helping her!"

"So I'm a coward! Have I  _ever_ presented myself as anything else?"

"Oh, you piece of-"

"Guys!" Sam interrupted. "It's done. Let's just figure out how to keep Dad away from y/n for the next..." He checked his watch. "12 hours."

"Any bright ideas?" Dean asked, glaring at Chuck.

"Yeah. We let the Alexandrites keep distracting her and we go find the nearest Ob. Dad'll be there."

"And we put him down."

"I'd rather we-"

"I don't have time for another 'Let's try to save Dad' debate. I don't care his motivations or his fuckin' sadness. He's not redeemable."

"No, I know, Dean. Negan has to die." Sam sighed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "But I think we should wait to kill him until we know that y/n's out of it and the babies are okay."

"Okay. So, where's he at?" Dean directed at Chuck.

"I told you, I don't know where the nearest-"

"Figure it out! Analyze your vision and give us something to fuckin' go on!" Dean demanded. Chuck closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he tried remember exactly what he'd seen. "Come on, Chuck!"

"I-I don't know! Yellin' at me isn't gonna help, Dean, jeez!" Chuck yelled, squeezing his eyes closed harder. "Uh... uh... I... maybe... Nebraska? Um... uh, Franklin? I-I don't know if that's a person or-or a place."

"We can work with that." Sam said, patting Chuck's shoulder. "Thanks, Chuck."

"Franklin, Nebraska's about 40 miles Northwest." Dean sneered, pulling his keys out of his pocket and stomping away.

Sam followed him with his eyes and sighed, turning to Chuck one more time before walking away. "Keep an eye on y/n... and Crowley."

Chuck nodded. "I've  _been_ keeping my eye on her." He muttered.


End file.
